Equilibrium
by TheFutilitarian
Summary: AU fairytale/fantasy DWP - Miranda/Andy pairing, however a lot of story is both from the twins' and original characters' POV. Further description in preface.
1. Preface

**A/N:** This is the one I will always consider to be my very first serious piece of creative writing. The first words were written on 15th of Feb and owe themselves to a very special person who, during Valentine's Day dinner, listened to me babble incoherently about how I always have so many random ideas and eventually said, "Well, why don't you just _try_ to write them down?"

She's also patiently spent hours being my cheerleader, absorbed both my anger and my angst, and to date still volunteers to be the first to read my fic so she can "take out the cheesy crap bits." I've lost track of how many times she's sighed whilst seeing 02:00am come up again on our clock as I huddle in the darkness, lit only by the glow of my laptop, laughing maniacally. (on the inside of course, but I know she knows) Thanks for being there and always believing in me. This one is dedicated to you.

The other people, both deserving of equal thanks, are my betas. In many ways, this story wouldn't be without them. Not wouldn't be better, just wouldn't be. They excel at being a cheering section whilst still offering their Southern, and far more Northern con-crit charm. It seems forever ago that I sent my first chapter off to them in trepidation, never knowing it would be one of the best things I would ever do. Technically speaking, they're still to do a final run-through of this work, so any glaring mistakes are undoubtedly from my last minute tinkering, and have absolutely nothing to do with them. But the constant re-writes are driving me completely insane, so I figured very slowly but surely I am going to start posting each chapter in turn. (whilst hiding my head below the parapet to avoid their wrath)

So, law_nerd and quiethearted, thank you both – take a bow, you guys undoubtedly rock the party that rocks the party.

So the story – well, being an AU (really AU) its roots of it lie in so many works of fiction – Andersen, Grimm, Carroll oh and of course, Garth Nix. ;-) I couldn't possibly credit every single source, suffice to say, it owes itself mostly to the 'fairytale' genre as a whole.

What's it about? I think the easiest and most fitting description is – life – and all the crazy that it contains (around 65k of mad to be precise). It's happy in parts, sometimes it's desperately sad. It's about the consequences of our choices, and the bearing those have on shaping us as an individual. It's about how far we can be pushed as people and what it is that we're able to become. It's about…well, honestly…it's just about reading it and judging for yourself.

So please enjoy!


	2. Prologue

**EQUILIBRIUM**

**Prologue**

As soon as Cassidy opened her eyes, she knew that it was snowing. She couldn't have told you how she knew this fact, she simply did. It was the same way she knew Caroline would already be out on the balcony, letting snowflakes melt slowly on her face. She adored nothing more than these stolen moments with her sister, though of course, she would never voice it out loud. Instead she'd simply lie there, squeezing Caroline's hand, silently telling her what Priestly women didn't say.

Hearing Cassidy climb out onto the balcony, Caroline whispered, "I saw her again tonight."

"Me too."

"I wish I knew why we keep seeing her. Do you think we'll ever….?" Caroline didn't finish this question, neither of them ever did. What if completion of that thought shattered the spell that let them dream the woman real?

"I don't know, Caro, but we can't let Mum catch us out here again, you know how she'll be." As she spoke, Cassidy gently brushed away the light dusting of snow on Caroline's face.

"Just ten more minutes, Cass, okay?"

Cassidy smiled her agreement.

Logically she knew that medical facts dictated one couldn't wear just a t-shirt outside in winter, not without hypothermia setting in. She was also aware that it was best to go inside simply for the reason that it would keep up the pretence that they were normal, just like any other kids. But one look at the sheer bliss on Caroline's face, and as always, she found herself lying down beside her sister in the snow.

Tonight, like many previous nights, the flakes were gentle kisses – each single one a touch of lips silently pronouncing it would be alright. Closing her eyes, she revelled in an odd sense of belonging, not exactly sure to what.

Only certain that she loved it.

* * *

As soon as Miranda opened her eyes, she knew that it was snowing. She'd dreamt of _her_ tonight. Then again, she always dreamt of her whenever it snowed, or was it that it always snowed when she would dream of her? Whichever it was, one thing was certain, the chill was so bone deep she often wondered when she'd ever feel warm again.

She'd stopped looking at the thermostat on nights like these so long ago, not much point really when it told the same old story – warm, toasty even – but not for her, never for her. She'd always pictured guilt to be like acid, eating away inside of you until there was simply nothing left. But guilt was not so kind.

Getting out of bed to watch the snowstorm through the icy window, she brooded over how long the girls would stay out on the balcony for this time. They wouldn't be out there come morning, not again, even they knew better than that.

"Miranda, come back to bed," the sleepy voice slurred.

As she slid under the covers beside her husband, he sharply pulled away. "Jesus, Miranda, you're fucking cold."

The urge to laugh sardonically and ask why it'd taken him three years to notice was quickly and quietly suppressed. Instead she slid more blanket towards him and turned until the window was in view once more. The pristine snowflakes danced their way down slowly, each movement an elaborate pirouette. She scrutinised them for what seemed like minutes, staring at them without blinking until her eyes burned with the strain of remaining open.

Sometimes when she stared hard enough she fantasised she could discern a pattern, something special, designed for her alone.

That thought always brought with it a semblance of hope.

Even as she longed for it, she hated it.

* * *

As soon as the queen opened her eyes, she knew that it was snowing. The snow brought with it an accompanying silence that over the years she'd so grown to love. Well, not really love – _require_. Silence brought calm and calm brought nothingness, an infinite yet barren landscape, stretching everywhere and nowhere at once. That emptiness was power and never had she been more dominant than she was now.

So when that first tremor registered, it was but a tiny ripple in the vast pond of her mind. The foreign sensation brought a frown to her face, whatever this was couldn't be described as pain and yet it most certainly qualified as a mild discomfort. Fleetingly she thought this was probably not something to be ignored, but disappearing as quickly as it arrived, she dismissed it as inconsequential.

In comparison, the second tremor was an assault – stealing her breath, instantly making her lose focus. In response, the snow around her swirled turbulently, the wind howling her own unvoiced displeasure. She searched her memories, feverishly trying to put a name to this…disturbance…

The third tremor's power felled completely, abruptly dropping her to her knees. She would have screamed had she been capable of it but this – it smothered her like a blanket, bled into the vey fibre of her being, choking her so thoroughly that it became the only thing she breathed.

Emotion.

She remembered now. This was how it was to _feel_.

She vowed immediately to destroy it.

* * *

Fauril didn't need to open his eyes to know that it was snowing. He knew that just as surely as he was aware that one game was about to end, another to begin. Sometimes he wondered if he'd ever stop – his constant toying with the world, the chaos he created, the ruin and torment left trailing in his wake. Then he felt the razor sharp acuteness of his hunger, allowed his memories to trickle through his mind.

One couldn't be determined a destroyer when one was merely an instrument of the destruction. One couldn't be said to take by force that which was so willingly relinquished.

No.

One did not ruin them, they ruined themselves.

And the delightful truth was – they would never stop.


	3. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**"Revenge may be wicked, but it's natural."** – William Makepeace Thackeray

* * *

_As each new queen ascended to her throne, in time she came to realise she need not fear the other, despite both possessing the power to destroy. They didn't hate each other for neither would accord the other the satisfaction of such depth of feeling. Of course this also meant they did not, and could not, love one another. To kill another queen would be to cast a pall of shame over your kingdom and really, an unsavoury deed as thus would just be so…unseemly. _

_This state of affairs produced an impasse; in turn, led to an uneasy truce of general detachment which, despite appearing tenuous on the surface, had managed to endure for millennia._

_That is, till now._

**Realm – Ashadriel – Just over 240 years ago – Andrea's 25****th**** Birthday**

The Black Queen's lips curled into a gloating smile, one that stretched too wide to chance escaping anyone's attention. As if trying to warn her of this very fact, from his seat on her left hand side Grimce gave a low throaty rumble of caution. She cast him a scathing glance to remind him of his place but he simply stared back at her, unblinking. In fact, he had the temerity to lift a paw and lick it delicately in disdain, as if he was the one dismissing her. She certainly ought to remind him about which one of them was royalty, something he seemed to forget all too easily as of late.

Looking back to the other end of the dinner table, she once again honed in on the object of her attention – the princess that would soon be queen. The girl was still so young, far younger than any queen should be; not ready to assume the throne. She revealed herself so easily that it was a surprise that everyone in the entire place, especially her mother, had not caught on.

Elnora closed her eyes in utter disgust. In moments like these it galled her that she would never be able to instruct, to teach, to nurture her own flesh and blood. Instead she could only watch as others failed at this simple task. Of course the fact that this failure now played right into her hands was a matter for considerably happier contemplation.

"Say, what kind of animal is that?" The loud voice was an unwelcome interruption.

Turning to face the man, she observed him coldly. "If you must know, Grimce is a Pallas cat."

"A palace cat? Well shouldn't it be back at the palace with the other rat catchers, not at the dinner table with us?" The man guffawed at his own joke, no doubt fuelled by overindulgence in the expensive mead. Several awkward chuckles broke out amongst those sitting next to him.

The Black Queen sighed and this time took a good hard look. No-one she recognised. Good. Not important then. Her smile was taken as permission, an ochre blur streaking past the corner of her vision just as she closed her eyes again. Hearing the terrifying screams, she idly wondered, as she sometimes did, whether one day Grimce would enjoy the sound of her own pain as he so expertly tore out her throat.

* * *

The White Queen was deeply troubled. Her daughter was still not ready yet Isabella was almost out of time. But as she gazed upon her child, the queen was helpless to stem the tide of love which swept over her body. She knew how all of them described her – sweet, kind, gentle; Andrea was all these things and more. If only Leonard had lived to see her become an adult, he would have been so proud. Reminiscing about the day Andrea came into this world, she cast her mind back to his excited ramblings on all the places he'd take her, things he'd show, the queen she would become some day.

As if attuned to a moment of contentment, the tremor struck more acutely this time, the queen forced to dig her nails into the chair, hoping memories alone would take away the pain.

She missed Leonard so much, so did Andrea. Not consciously of course, how could she, when she had never truly known her father before he died. However, for Isabella, he'd been a rock – her ballast, her counterpoint in this world. With his untimely death, she'd focused on the only thing that seemed to matter – her child. Placing her own well-being above all else, she'd doted on Andrea, indulged her every whim, all the while shielding her from the harsh realities of the world. At the time the choice had seemed so necessary, of paramount importance. However, when she'd discovered her illness, it revealed itself to have been ultimately selfish – a mistake.

Of course, every queen's lifespan was littered with them.

She could only hope Andrea didn't make too many.

* * *

The subject of all this scrutiny was unaware of how carefully she was being watched. Perhaps if she had noticed, she would've had the presence of mind to turn her thoughts elsewhere, remembered to heed her lessons, the words uttered mere hours ago. But Andrea's world had never required a need for subterfuge, so her covert stare continued to admire the person she had been gazing at for the last ten minutes.

The thought of this morning's activities trickled a pleasant shiver down her spine, which in turn increased the annoyance at the tediousness of birthday celebrations. If she was forced to nod one more affirmation about the poor weather or the difficulty in finding a decent dressmaker, she might come to scream. Rather loudly, in fact. Such a horrendous and inappropriate act would undoubtedly prompt her mother to bestow _the_ _look_ – the one that said _I love you_ but equally conveyed _why can't you be as a princess should?_

Her reflection was interrupted by another shiver and this time she knew its source was not from memory. Connecting with those ice-blue eyes, she found desire jostling with amusement in their depths. As if the raised ridge of the eyebrow wasn't sufficient confirmation, an accompanying smirk settled on her lover's lips. She was enjoying Andrea's misery, having a silent laugh at her expense.

Damnation! She would show her that she could be the perfect dinner companion, capable of enjoying herself at this monotonous affair even if it killed her. Smiling at Chancellor Gershin's boring prattle, she redoubled her efforts to be sweet, attentive and charming – everything that a princess should be.

And if her thoughts strayed to the type of payback she would dish out to Miranda later, well, those didn't show in her face at all.


	4. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"**Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad."** – Henry Wordsworth Longfellow

* * *

**Washington D.C. – Present Time**

"I know it's your birthday today." The voice made this statement sound like a cross between a closely guarded secret between best friends and an accusation of some heinous deed Miranda had committed.

Sparing a mere glance for its unruly owner, she tried to dismiss her in an effort to re-focus on her work. "Well, I am _so_ glad you're here to enlighten me. I don't know _how_ I've managed to survive without this knowledge for these twenty one years. It's so very clear now that gaining employment within these walls was worth _every bit of coin my parents paid out for my schooling._"

The radiant smile which bloomed on Andrea's features following this rather clear hint served to produce an inner sigh. Of course, why did she even bother? Sarcasm, like many things, was truly wasted on this child.

"I got you a present."

This unexpected announcement startled enough to elicit surprise. "A present?"

"Uhuh." The girl nodded vigorously.

Regaining her composure, Miranda couldn't resist some further prodding. "What is it? Did you finally manage to memorise the last twenty years of Asahdriel's history? Can you now point out Blackfell mountains on a map? Or maybe, do I dare believe it, tally up this winter's food expenditure?"

The last prod produced the desired guilty look, both of them well aware that numbers were not Andrea's strong suit. Although inevitably, to improve, one actually needed to apply oneself – a point Andrea continued not to grasp. Undeniably, this crestfallen look which graced her face right now was precisely the reason she got away with it. Gazing into those dejected eyes, Miranda reminded herself that as a future advisor it was to be her job to help guide all the queens. She needed to be firm, tough and strong. She needed to -- Oh for crying out loud, what she needed was not to have these soulful puppy eyes look at her as though she'd lost her only friend!

"Come on then, let's see." Miranda resigned herself to appearing enthusiastic about the contents of the brightly coloured package. She shuddered to think of what this eight year old would deem to be a fitting birthday present.

_Please, just don't be alive or…wriggling._

"I have Patrick for you," Andrea stated coming forward, her voice now sounding rather gruff.

Miranda frowned. "Patrick?"

Who the hell was Patrick? Did she know a Patrick? Would a Patrick fit into a package that small?

"Miranda, I have Patrick for you?" This time Andrea's statement was a question, one far less confident than her assertion of before.

Again, that voice, far too hoarse and deep – clearly an appointment with the physician was in order. Andrea had likely caught a cold, no wonder given she passed her time in that muddy garden of hers, rolling about in the dirt with vigour of a village commoner. Why the girl couldn't remember that she was a future queen was beyond Miranda.

And she really was fairly certain she didn't know any Patrick, was at a loss as to why the girl was looking at her so expectantly.

"Uhm, Miranda. Patrick? Should I call him back? I'll call him back. Uhm. When you are less busy. So I'll just be over here if you need me. So. Uhm. Just let me know."

Fantastic, another problem to be added to the rest. The girl's appalling diction was in need of serious work. As if her incessant chatter wasn't nauseating enough, the elocution lessons were clearly a waste of space. At this rate, Andrea would grow up to be the most ill mannered, untutored queen in the entire history of the kingdom.

_Not if I have anything to do with it_.

Miranda vowed to redouble her instruction on proper etiquette no matter how much those eyes implored her otherwise.

"Really, Andrea, I fail to understand what it is you supposedly study all day. Sitting here listening to you, one has to wonder if one came upon you in the local pumpkin patch just yesterday." Winding up for one of her prepared _Andrea _speeches, Miranda swung round in her chair, shifting her gaze from those beseeching eyes to the castle courtyard…

…only to be met by the lush expanse of Capitol Hill grounds instead.

"Uhm, Miranda, are you okay?" The voice of the not_-_Andrea gingerly piped up behind her.

The vision of the past receded completely, the unwelcome intrusion summoning a flash of rage which tore right through Miranda at breakneck speed. How dare this girl, this junior intern whose name she would never deign to learn? What gave her the right to ask something like that? She knew almost nothing about Miranda Priestly, judging by quality of her work – very little about anything at all. This idiot inhabited a world where things were able to be 'okay', a world she foolishly assumed the rest of them co-existed in.

Swinging round, she impaled the girl with an icy glare. "_Emily_, is Patrick on the line?"

The girl paled. "N-n-n-o-o…you…umm…didn't…?"

"I didn't what?" Miranda's glare grew infinitely colder.

"Umm…I'll go get…"

"Don't bother, _Emily_." Miranda cut her off with a curt flick of the wrist. "The only thing you should bother with is cleaning out your desk. That's all."

Spinning back, she stared out of the window from the comfort of her leather chair. The sounds of _Emily_ faded away as Miranda unconsciously stroked the pendant at her throat. She no longer looked down to check its colour, for it was always black. When she had first arrived to this ghastly place that they called Washington, she'd watched it every minute of every day, hoping it would again become what it once was. That hope had died almost ten years ago and yet she couldn't bear to take it off. The memories of _her_ were always strongest when she clutched it in her hand. They weren't always so kind but she cherished each and every one.


	5. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

**"When once estrangement has arisen between those who truly love each other, everything tends to widen the breach." – **Mary Elizabeth Braddon

* * *

**Aspen – 2 years ago**

Caroline was spitting mad; in fact, she'd probably passed mad some hours ago. Right around the time of that disastrous "family" dinner; god, that was a joke and a half! She couldn't fathom why her mother played this make-believe – pretending she cared about _this_ one, even loved him; that she'd ever loved any of them. The truth was, she cared about one thing and one thing only – work. Work, oh, and that stupid pendant. Striding towards her destination, Caroline's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile, reminiscing about her most vivid memory of that _beloved_ object.

* * *

Once, when Caroline was much younger, she'd gone into her mother's room. She'd just wanted to play with grown up things, to look as pretty as her mother did. But when her eye caught sight of the pendant hanging from the corner of the mirror, she'd been immediately drawn to it. She didn't understand what made her do it, she knew she wasn't allowed to take it, but deciding she would have it regardless, she broke one of her mother's only rules. Climbing up onto the chair, she balanced on the very tips of her toes, stretching out her hand to almost touch it. Of course, Patricia chose that moment to exuberantly bound into the room, immediately spotting Caroline. It wasn't her fault, she was just a puppy, but in her haste to get to the object of her affection, the stocky body jostled the chair sideways. Caroline's fingers brushed and reflexively clutched the pendant, as she tumbled, the mirror crashing down beside her.

The resulting noise made the puppy cower and streak out of the room.

As she lay there on her side, lungs struggling for breath, the tears began to roll. At the time, she thought they were a sign of pain – the tiny cuts and the bruise already forming on her elbow. When somewhat older, she would learn that they may've been a physiological reflex, her body's answer to the rush of pure adrenaline. Only when she was an adult did she face the truth – they'd been an instinct born of fear, for what would transpire once Miranda assembled facts.

Her mother came rushing into the room, eyes filling with panic as she spotted Caroline amidst a pile of broken glass. Dropping to her knees, she cradled the young girl in her arms. "Caro, sweetheart…don't move…we'll get a doctor…where are you hurt, darling…James…James…call a doctor…baby…shh…lie still…Mummy'll take care of it…James, where the hell is that doctor, hurry…"

This babbling, even to six year old Caroline, was so out of character that her tears dried almost immediately. Used to comforting her sister, she reached out to cup her mother's cheek, trying to show her that she was fine, wasn't badly hurt.

"Mummy…I'll be alright…it's just…"

Worry dried her mouth as she saw her mother's gaze fix on the object in her hand. Silver chain dangling loosely, the pendant's black tear drop almost appeared to darken, as if showing her its displeasure. Her mother's hand trembled as she reached out to grasp it. Intent, she examined the glass in minute detail, before bringing it to her lips as if to kiss it.

Her face darkened considerably; her voice becoming quiet; words measured, icy. "What exactly were you doing when you fell?"

"I…uh…I…" Pinned by the stony gaze, Caroline's mind frantically groped for an explanation, even as fear held her tongue.

A minute went by, maybe two – time seemed to slow. Continuing to stare into those eyes, Caroline saw a myriad of emotions flicker through them – disappointment, anger, pain – even as Miranda struggled to gain control. And then, perhaps aware of how exposed she was, her mother shut her eyes.

Caroline wanted to feel relief, should've been happy to be free of the pinpoint glare; instead shame choked her as she watched one lone tear seep out, slowly making its way down her mother's cheek. Caroline wanted to shout that she hadn't meant to hurt her; only wanted a look, a touch of something held so dear.

But the words refused to come.

Miranda rose with customary grace, just as their _father_ burst into the room, Cassidy snapping at his heels. "Miranda, the doctor's on his way…" "Caro, are you okay?" Their voices clashed together in a sudden burst of sound.

Caroline didn't answer, her whole being fixed on just one person. As her mother's eyes re-opened, the young girl shuddered at the sight – for the blue was blank, every trace of emotion carefully excised. Inclining her head, Miranda whispered, "I have my answer, Caroline." Having uttered those words, she went to leave the room.

"Caroline, Miranda, what the fu…I mean what the he…goddamn it, can someone explain to me what's going on?" James jumped up, grabbing Miranda's arm.

Shaking herself free, Miranda hissed, "Not now, we'll discuss this later."

"No, we'll talk right now! I'm sick of you treating me as if I am some sort of hired help! Just once --" James stopped, suddenly remembering his audience. Standing up, he followed Miranda out of the room, their voices growing fainter the further they moved away.

Caroline's gaze lowered to stare at the floor, released from that awful spell.

"Caro, please don't cry. These cuts don't look so bad, you'll be okay. I'll let you share Frosty and my dessert till Friday? We can watch The Lion King tonight, I know you love it." Cassidy crouched down to embrace her sister, shoes crunching on the broken glass.

Even wrapped in a hug, Caroline cried harder gazing at the shattered mirror – though still a child, she already knew – the glass was not the only thing to break that day.

* * *

Snapping back into the present, Caroline saw that she had reached her destination. Warning signs met her gaze, each sterner than the last – advising the lake not safe, the ice too thin, the need to exercise some caution. Ignoring them all, she proceeded forward, stopping only when she reached its edge. Its expanse seemed more foreboding at night, the lake itself trying to send out a warning.

"_Don't do this…" _The voice echoed in her head.

"Shut up." Caroline replied.

It wasn't till a startled bird took flight that she realised she'd said it out loud.

Letting out a breath, she tentatively lowered her right foot onto the ice. It held.

Now or never.

Steeling herself, she let the left foot join the right, transferring her full weight to the ice.

Not even a creak.

Feeling smug, Caroline moved forward. Another perfect example of how stupid adults were.

Just like her mother.

_Afraid to be lonely?_ Marry a man that you don't love.

_Want your kids to grow up normal?_ Get a father figure that doesn't stay.

_No time to spend with them?_ Why not lavish them with things that they don't need.

_Scared of people becoming more important than a piece of glass?_

Well, that one Caroline would fix right now.

"_This is wrong."_

"I. Said. Shut. Up."

Life would be easier not having a conscience.

The goal was now just up ahead, the translucent pale grey of ice giving way to shadowy dark water. Inching closer, she gazed at the utterly still surface of the liquid, involuntarily admiring its tranquil beauty.

Her feet stepped closer of their own volition.

Putting her hand into her pocket, she brought out the pendant. Her mother would miss it. She would be sad, upset; okay, she'd probably be devastated. But in time she'd get over its loss, could never prove who took it, and this way – she would never find it again. And with it gone, maybe, just maybe, things would be alright.

_They_ would be alright.

"_Caroline…"_

The lake seemed to be whispering her name. She couldn't look away, the water lulling her, luring to its depths.

She took another step forward.

"_Caroline …Come back, Caroline…"_

Caroline frowned. The voice seemed louder now, much more familiar.

"Caroline, please…please come back…"

Spinning round sharply, she spotted the only moving object – Cass – jumping onto the ice. Guilt made her instantly step back, trying to put more distance between them.

It was then she heard the first faint noise.

Looking down in bewilderment, she saw the line run between her feet, zigzagging in the direction of the shore.

"Caro, move, don't stand there!!!" Cassidy increased her speed.

The next noise was rather louder, the crack echoing sharply in the night.

_Well, shit_. She knew they weren't to use bad language but this moment was just too perfect. _God_, she thought bitterly, _can't even do this one thing right_! Maybe her mother had a point – she was a fuck-up, failing even such a simple task.

"_I'd say that's now beyond a doubt, wouldn't you?"_

Caroline snorted; at least her conscience had a sense of humour.

Cassidy was so much closer now and for a moment Caroline allowed herself the hope that everything would be alright. They'd both sneak back into the house, put the pendant back where it belonged and all of this would simply be another secret – just one of many.

Grinning in relief, Caroline stepped forward.

With a resounding crash, the ice gave way beneath her feet.


	6. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

"**It is in the nature of all passionate and uncontrolled emotion to prey upon and weaken the forces of reflective power, as much as it is in the nature of controlled emotion to strengthen them."** – Elizabeth Stuart Phelps

* * *

_Each Black Queen had the power to embrace her dark side so completely that she would not be able to climb out of its abyss__. Only long years of rigorous training, instruction and involvement in the current queen's affairs schooled the future Black Queen to respect the balance that needed to be achieved. This was why, upon each Black Queen's coronation, her first arduous task was to swiftly appoint her successor. It was not unheard of that an heir to the throne would wait more than three centuries to take her rightful place, for each queen was not only loathe to give up the throne, but too powerful to have it taken by force._

_It was unfortunate then, that the reigning Black Queen died much before her allotted time, and her successor ascended to the throne a short thirty years after being chosen as the future queen._

_For her merciless and vengeful actions would irrevocably alter the balance of the realm._

* * *

**Realm – Kaledran – Present time**

The man really didn't know where to look, his eyes darting between her and her cat as though he wished he could distinguish which one was the lesser evil, and throw himself at their mercy. She was certain she ought to feel angry that her 'pet' inspired an equal amount of fear, but rage was not what she was feeling now. Instead, it was a touch of different emotion, one far more rare and complex – regret.

"How long ago?" She demanded.

"Three days, your majesty."

The queen had to act fast to appear unaffected. "You're certain?"

"Yes, your majesty. The information comes from reliable sources." The man swallowed hard, hesitant to continue. "I..I…wish I was bringing better news…but --"

Elnora cut through his babble with a curt flick of the wrist. "How bad is it this time?"

"Crops ruined, animals dead, barely any supplies to allow the village to get by. They won't last long facing this unexpected winter. And --" He stopped.

The queen's dark eyebrow rose in question.

"Three more villages, all just as bad. She doesn't kill them, the people, I mean. Not unless they threaten her directly and there aren't many prepared to challenge her anymore. Not with all the --" The man's rapid speech ground to a halt again.

The queen sighed, well aware of the executions he referred to.

"But the people are dying, your majesty, dying all the same."

Grimce purred in satisfaction at this statement, his mouth stretching into what passed for a feline grin. Elnora stroked his back in warning, thinking how nice and simple it must be to think solely of destruction, never once having to consider its consequence or source. He flicked his tail in contempt, gave her a condescending glare and jumped down from his cushion to strut away. Approaching the man he delicately wound himself round his ankles, purring softly and inquisitively, rubbing himself all over the bottom of the trousers. At first the man continued to look petrified, as if unable to believe his eyes, but then on instinct he bent down and petted the shaggy cat.

The resultant shriek assaulted Elnora's eardrums, causing the monarch to cringe.

Appearing satisfied with the chunk of flesh he'd taken out of the messenger's hand, Grimce looked at her as if to say, "_This_ is who we are. We destroy, we certainly don't _care," _before stalking out of the room. The man continued to grasp his hand, whimpering in pain, but the queen ignored him. It was not her place to make him feel better about his own stupidity. Instead, her place was to take care of this intolerable situation that was growing increasingly more…troublesome…as the days went by.

Not for the first time, she considered the mistake she'd made all those years ago. Oh yes, she'd admitted rather quickly after the events that it had, indeed, been a mistake. The true ramifications of which she was feeling now, two hundred years later; which would undoubtedly increase as time went by. It was not in the Black Queen's nature to feel remorse for that indicated an apology for one's actions, however for this she was prepared to make an exception.

Casting back her mind to that fateful incident that was the cause of all this trouble, she damned once more the one that started and could end it all.

* * *

Elnora was bored out of her mind, grateful that these types of functions almost never came about, and that more importantly, she was rarely asked to attend. Unfortunately, Isabella's daughter was turning eighteen, such an occasion apparently needing marked with merriment and laughter. Quite frankly the Black Queen saw little cause for joy, not unless one chose to mark the continued existence of that weak spoiled pup as some sort of triumph for this world. If one more person extolled Andrea's many _alleged_ virtues, Elnora would not be held responsible for her actions. It irritated her to no end that the rest of them refused to face the truth – such virtues were a weakness, a hindrance to seeing the world for what it was – just another object to control. Elnora ruled through fear, demanded respect; what wasn't given, she would simply take. She didn't need anyone to talk about how wonderful she was, only understand how _not_ wonderful she would be if they failed her.

Turning her attention to the White Queen, Elnora contemplated how the older monarch ruled. She inspired love, devotion, loyalty and trust. No doubt Isabella had never known the crippling fear that one day it would all come to an end, power slipping from her grasp to leave her just a _nobody_ again. Elnora hadn't been born into the role of queen and so that fear coiled within her every day, but then again, she thrived on it, it made her who she was. Despite unwanted reminders that her time as monarch would ultimately end, she acknowledged the need for an appropriate lineage for her kingdom. Her predecessors had chosen their successor instantly; she hadn't done the same. A child, she would wait till she had her own child. Then she would groom her flesh and blood, safe in the knowledge that she'd never be betrayed.

She truly pitied Isabella for continuing to think the world so good. How utterly exhausting it must be, each little occurrence to the contrary, serving to put a dent in your beliefs. Yet along with pity formed a growing, if begrudged, respect – this White Queen had ruled for centuries and whilst disagreeing with Elnora's ways, had extended her every courtesy befitting a royal.

Surreptitiously, she glanced at the ornate clock situated in the corner of the Grand Hall. Oh good, she'd stayed just long enough that she would not breach decorum by leaving. Getting up from her chair, her thoughts started to turn to much more pleasant things, such as whether upon her return she might go hunting. It would be good to kill something, although perhaps an entirely _different_ sort of relief was in order, in which case she'd have to very much change the manner of her pursuit. Throwing a curt nod to the occupants of the table, she decided that both activities were necessary if she was even to begin making up for the hours of her life wasted here today. Decision made, she gracefully headed toward the opposite side of the laden main table, coming to stand directly in front of Isabella.

"Elnora, surely we deserve the pleasure of your company for longer?" The White Queen's normally melodious voice rung with a shade of something the Black Queen couldn't decipher.

"I am not the first one to depart." Elnora briefly indicated the empty chair to the left of Isabella, reserved for the next in the royal line.

"Yes. Andrea needed to attend to...an important matter."

"More important than her own celebrations?" Elnora allowed scepticism and animosity to seep through every word.

"She is young, at that age some things seem more important than they truly are. I'm sure you remember?" Isabella's voice was rueful, and again Elnora heard something that wasn't quite…_right_.

The Black Queen wanted to say that if her own heir couldn't deign to entertain her guests she would do a lot more than make excuses for her but courtesy bid her to hold her tongue. "Please let the princess know I extend my regards to her on behalf of everyone in Kaledran. We wish her many years of excellent health."

"Thank you. And Ashadriel…" Isabella stopped mid sentence, swallowing with a grimace, trying to control her…_pain_? Elnora noticed a tremble in the queen's hand before she quickly withdrew it from sight. "…extends the same wishes to you." She seemed to finish with difficulty, taking even measured breaths.

Etiquette prompted Elnora to ask if anything was wrong but she caught the words in time, reminding herself that she really didn't care either way. Inclining her head politely, she took a step towards the door, noting idly that they had begun to serve dessert – some concoction covered in chocolate sauce. Her sweet tooth made her pause and give a lingering look, Elnora wistfully regretting not delaying her departure.

Had she not momentarily stopped, events may have transpired differently; everything that consequently followed might've been avoided. Elnora would often contemplate this possibility much later, but foresight – a wonderful award – does not deign to bless itself even upon queens.

A door burst open and a white blur flew into the room, travelling at a pace which signified either determination or a complete lack of care at its destination. Whichever one, halfway to the table it inevitably encountered an object, to be specific – a servant. The force of their meeting caused him to stagger backwards, trying desperately to keep the dessert platter, and him, upright.

He was successful at neither.

Flailing his arms mid fall, he instinctively grabbed onto the only thing in the nearby vicinity that could help him keep his balance – unfortunately, Elnora herself. Startled by this unexpected action, confined by the elaborate layers of dress, she went down in a heap. Seconds later the contents of the tray landed around her, the tray itself making a loud clanging noise that reverberated across the hall. As if an invisible switch was flicked, silence descended on the room.

Elnora glared at the offending party, her fury immediate. How dare this person, this _nothing_ -- She would have him executed and then she would have his head paraded through the city so that everyone would know the consequences of being a clumsy oaf. And as for, she saw the white blur had coalesced into the shape of the princess herself, as for this idiotic girl she had truly better --

Absolutely flabbergasted, she watched Andrea simply resume her pace and exit through the other door in the hall. In that split second when she passed her, Elnora observed several things at once: the girl was crying (her eyes rimmed red from many tears) – sheer distress etched on her face, the way her head was angled to obscure said face from everyone's view, making Elnora the only one privy to this fact. And the only thing that was truly of any importance – the lack of apology that passed her lips.

Elnora turned her head, furiously impaling Ashadriel's monarch with an angry glower. Surely as the reigning queen Isabella wouldn't allow this insolence to pass by unacknowledged. To receive this kind of slight, even from an equal, was unacceptable. But from this whelp? Beyond intolerable. Her stare was met with silence. She watched in disbelief as Isabella turned to face her as if to say something, her mouth already forming words, but before even one emerged, her face twisted into a grimace and she swallowed rapidly in succession. Scraping back her chair, she rose quickly, also proceeding to leave the room. Truly at a loss as to what should happen next, Elnora felt the drip of something slowly gliding down her face and then her neck. Her countenance darkened even further as she tasted that blasted chocolate sauce.

It was then the first snigger pierced the silence – quiet, muffled, but there nonetheless. As the servants flitted around her, awkwardly mopping at the sauce which stained her dress and hair, more and more echoed across the hall. Rage consumed all rational thought, coursing through her veins like molten lava. Underpinning the rage were entirely different emotions – ones far worse, infinitely more dangerous – humiliation, embarrassment, shame.

Once she grew older and wiser, this Black Queen (just as the ones preceding her) would understand that anger must be tempered by control, rashness by reason, pride by humility; that very often things were not as they appeared. But sprawled on that marble floor, Elnora was yet to learn all these important lessons, instead cursing ever having stepped foot inside this land, vowing never to return unless it was to exact revenge. It was in this very moment, taunted by the soft tittering devotees of Ashadriel, that Elnora made a wish. Yearning with every fibre of her being that it would turn out to be true, she beseeched the heavens – _as long as I rule, a White Queen won't feel love again_.


	7. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

"**One friend, one person who is truly understanding, who takes the trouble to listen to us as we consider a problem, can change our whole outlook on the world." – **Dr E.

* * *

**Aspen – 2 years ago**

At nine years of age, Cassidy approached her first session with trepidation. She'd been told, "It's totally cool, I have to go too" (her classmates), "it might help you process the divorce" (her mother), "all that she'll understand is that her mother's a heartless bitch" (James, though of course he hadn't meant for her to overhear that one). And yet despite all this, Cassidy still wasn't sure why she needed therapy. However, so as not to cause her mother further stress (Caroline's tantrum had been epic), she'd plastered on a fake smile and professed how much she was looking forward to telling Dr Johnson all about her 'feelings'. Sitting in reception, silently rehearsing the speeches she'd prepared, her only hope was that it would all be over quickly.

Two hours later, sitting on her bed, she searched for issues she could plausibly have, in order that she'd be able to attend the sessions every week. She'd already discarded anything related to her mother – too close to home; depression – too hard to fake; sex – so totally gross. Eventually she settled on anxiety and stress. Yep, she could do that. And technically, lying _did_ make her stressed, so in a round about way she would actually be telling the truth. Grinning triumphantly, she closed her MacBook – it was a sound plan.

Several sessions later she was in the middle of recounting one of her "stress episode" stories when Dr Johnson took off his glasses and chuckled.

Cassidy stopped, thrown for a loop by this unexpected action.

"No, no, keep going." Throwing his glasses onto the desk in front of him, he leaned back casually in his chair, steepling his fingers on his stomach. "You really are _very_ good."

Cassidy tried hard to resume but the interruption had made her lose her place. Was she stressed because she and Caroline liked the same boy, or because a boy liked them both? Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she tried hard to remember which it was.

Several seconds passed.

Dr Johnson leaned in to whisper, "Feel free to start from how you both like Simon," as if he read her mind. His eyes held both amusement and a hint of challenge – daring her to keep going.

Cassidy swallowed abruptly. _Uh-oh_.

Relaxed but intent, Dr Johnson continued to watch her.

Eventually shame lowered her gaze, Cassidy truly anxious for the very first time.

"Okay, Cassidy. That's enough for today. Can you wait in the reception area while --?"

"Don't," Cassidy mumbled in desperation. "Please don't."

Dr Johnson sighed and she heard him walk over to crouch down beside her.

"Cassidy."

She didn't want to look at him for fear of what she'd see.

"Cassidy, look at me."

Lifting her gaze, she was pinned by a pair of eyes that radiated only kindness.

"There's nothing wrong with you, we both know that. So why not tell me why you really keep coming back here?"

Swallowing audibly, she remained silent.

Dr Johnson's voice gentled as he tried again. "Cassidy, you're a smart girl, but see those degrees hanging right there?" He gestured towards several frames which acted as the only decoration on the wall. "They're there for a reason. Sure, they look fancy, and they let me charge your mother whatever I want, but what they really need to tell you is that you should cut the crap. If you want to come here, sit in my office for an hour a week, and tell me stories you prepare, don't insult my intelligence by thinking that I don't know any better."

Startled by this unexpected frankness, Cassidy watched him rise and walk over to his desk. He jotted down something in the paperwork and lifted the phone to his ear, dialling a number.

Cassidy hesitated, torn about what to do.

"Samantha, can you connect me to Mrs Priestly's office?"

Cold sweat trickled down her spine, dread burrowing deeply in her stomach – she was well aware how her mother felt about lying.

"Thank you, Samantha." The therapist settled comfortably in the chair as if in preparation for a lengthy conversation, spinning away to face the window. "Ah yes. Dr Johnson for Miranda Priestly, please. Mmm…quite urgent…it's about Cassidy."

"You….listen…" Defeated, Cassidy slowly parted with the words.

Dr Johnson didn't turn round.

She said it louder, this time the words rapidly tumbling out of her, a dam finally breaking within.

"I said…you listen. I like to talk, and you listen, really listen. And I know she pays you to..." The words sounded far more bitter than she'd meant for them to be. "But it's still nice." Resentment faded into resignation, "Really nice."

Dr Johnson swung round and pierced her with his gaze, seeing only truth reflected in her eyes. Smiling in satisfaction, he replaced the handset.

"B-b-u-u-t-t…" Cassidy stammered, "My mother…She'll --"

Dr Johnson smiled, "I am reliably informed by the automated service that the time is exactly 12:54 and 30 seconds."

She should have been angry, furious even; instead her mouth stretched into a grin. "That was a pretty neat trick."

"I told you those bits of paper on the wall weren't just for show."

"So what now?"

"Now you get to go home."

Cassidy's face fell. Nodding, she got up off the chair and turned to leave the room. Oh well, it'd been far too good to last and at least he wasn't going to tell her mother.

"Oh and Cassidy..?" He spoke just as she twisted the doorknob.

_Of course, I should've known_. He probably wanted_ her_ to tell her mother.

"Make sure Samantha makes an appointment for you for next week."

Cassidy's mouth stretched into an impossibly wide grin. "Yes, Dr Johnson." Even facing the door, she knew that he could tell.

His warm words confirmed it, "Call me David."

* * *

There would be many more sessions with David, more often than not in the lush garden behind the office building. He'd tell her all about plants and wildlife (his real interests), she'd tell him about the A she'd gotten on her Spanish test and getting the lead role in the school play. He talked about his family – his wife and son, she discussed hers – mother and Caroline. Trying never to judge, he patiently doled out advice whenever it was asked for, always ensuring Cassidy was able to reach her own conclusions. He never told her that he'd stopped billing her mother's credit card the day that she'd revealed the truth, and Cassidy never even thought to ask. Miranda Priestly, of course, was too pre-occupied with work to notice.

Instinctively, Cassidy knew their sessions were unusual and with a fear that they might disappear she told no-one, not even Caroline, the truth about what went on during this special hour. Their curious friendship continued to flourish – forming a bond that made David's the only number that she dialled now, almost two years later, hoping he could fix this just as he helped her fix all else.

"Cassidy?" Given the lateness of the hour, David sounded groggy.

"She f-f-f-ell in…" Cassidy's own voice quivered breathlessly. "She's in the water and it-t-t-s…s-s-o-o…cold." Voicing it out loud made it real and involuntarily she started to cry.

"Cassidy…what…where are you? Who's in the water? What are you talking about?"

"Caro…she was on the ice…she shouldn't…and she…and then…it cracked…and now…" She kept trying to form a coherent thought but all of them escaped her grasp.

"Ice, what ice? Cassidy, where are you? Where's your mother?"

"She's with Stephen. Dinner…There was…" Realising the details were unimportant, she stopped. "I don't know what to do. You have to help her." Fear made the tears flow faster.

"Where?" Finally understanding the urgency, David was sparing with his words.

"The lake behind the house."

No further explanation was necessary – the skiing trips a favourite topic of discussion.

"How long ago?"

Cassidy wanted to scream that looking at her watch had been the least of her concerns. "Two, three minutes, I don't know, maybe more."

"Okay. Stay there. I have 911 on the other line. Are you safe?"

"S-s-s-afe?" Cassidy couldn't understand the question. Didn't he realise Caroline was probably drowning as they talked? Who the hell cared if Cassidy was safe?

"Are you on the ice? Cassidy, hang on. Sir, I need an ambulance immediately." She heard him relay the rest of the details through a second handset. A lifetime went by before he finished his conversation. "Cassidy, I need you to focus, sweetheart – focus. I know you want to help your sister but you need to make sure you get off the ice. Help is on the way, they'll be there soon. But you need to --"

The rest was lost as she saw a dark shape surface from the lake, throwing something that plopped down heavily some distance from her feet. Stepping closer, she saw it was Caroline's blue sweater. A voice shouted, "Cass. Oh my god. Cass…You should totally --" The shape went under again before it finished.

Cassidy panicked.

No-one was going to get here in time and she wasn't going to idly stand by, watching her sister die, not without doing everything she could to try and save her. She could still hear the faint sounds of David's voice coming from the cell phone even as she struggled out of her jacket, shucked off her shoes, and threw it carelessly on top. Inhaling deeply, she approached the broken ice edge with caution. It gave an ominous creak, even as she stilled herself entirely, not daring to breathe.

Suddenly, a head surfaced with a splash and Cassidy found herself staring into Caroline's laughing face. "Finally, slowpoke, I thought you'd _neve_r get here!"

In stunned disbelief she watched Caroline spring up, using momentum to half push her body onto the ice where Cassidy stood. Already far too fragile, the edge proceeded to crack, plunging Cassidy into the ice cold water.

Her last thought was that she was going to kill her sister.


	8. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

"**Sometimes people carry to such perfection the mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem." – **W. Somerset Maugham

* * *

**Washington D.C. – Present Time**

The one thing they didn't tell you about success was how it sped up time, Miranda thought. At first it had been 20-30 minutes, stolen here and there, often from family activities **– **play time, homework, dinners. There were enthusiastic hugs, tender apologies and sweet promises that it was never to happen again.

Eventually the minutes turned to hours, and yet they seemed like minutes still. The hugs ceased, half hearted shrugs taking their place. Apologies became more rare, a façade of courtesy to be precise. And as for promises, well, none were needed where they weren't expected.

Then came the moment when she'd swept open the blinds expecting evening's dusk, instead encountering the tentative first rays of morning sunshine; and understood **– **that minutes were now days.

Calling her driver, she rushed home for breakfast with the girls, making a note for Emily to buy them that latest gadget they'd been asking for. Knowing Stephen was away, she spent long agonising minutes in the car thinking of how worried the twins must be, how much they would have missed her.

Stepping through the front door, she'd hurriedly flung off her coat, rushing into the kitchen as fast as her 4 inch Blahniks would allow. Expecting to be faced with tears, tantrums and accusations, she steeled herself for the worst. It would be different this time, she told herself; she would apologise, and mean it; tell them she'd cut back the hours at work, and do it too. Maybe they could spend the day together at the zoo, or go see a movie – whatever it took. Armed with this damage limitation plan, she confidently stepped over the threshold of the kitchen.

Caroline, shovelling cereal into her mouth, did not even look up. Cassidy gave her a wave and mumbled a "Hi" around a piece of toast, before resuming frantic scribbling in her notepad.

"Good morning, Ms Priestly!"

It was disconcerting to receive the most enthusiastic greeting from her housekeeper.

"Good morning, girls. First let me --"

Before she could get any further, Caroline jumped off her stool. "Mum, can you make sure to pay for that class trip to France today? Don't forget, okay? In fact, you know, I'll text Emily. She'll remind you." With that she hurriedly squeezed by Miranda, who out of habit bent down for a kiss (one duly given), and flounced out of the room.

Miranda straightened. This wasn't what she'd been expecting.

"Do I have to go to France? Please don't make me go." Cassidy jumped off the stool, shoving the notepad in her school bag. "The play's coming up soon, I want to practice. Oh and I don't want to miss any sessions with Dr Johnson."

"Cassidy, do you really still need to see him?"

"No, Mum." Cassidy rolled her eyes, imitating her mother to perfection. "I don't _need _to see him. But you know that boy two years above us, that jumped in front of that train, I mean he didn't really _need_ to see anyone either."

"Well, I don't think --"

"Don't worry Mum, its fine. Honest. I've got to get to school though. Love you." And with that Cassidy rushed past, bestowing the same hurried (if warmer) kiss.

The sound of running footsteps echoed through the house, followed by a loud slam of the heavy front door. Completely stunned, Miranda didn't move, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

"Ms Priestly, would you care for some breakfast?" The housekeeper's voice intruded on her thoughts. Glancing at her, Miranda caught the fleeting look of pity in the woman's eyes. It was only then the truth bulldozed through her, leaving wreckage in its wake.

Desperately hoping otherwise, she questioned, "The girls, Julia. Last night. Did they even --?" The lump in her throat expanded, cutting off the obvious question.

This time worry swirled through the pity in those eyes, its messenger unsure how to voice her thoughts. "Ms Priestly, you know how… I mean, you know you're often…and I think sometimes they --" Julia started and stopped, unable to find fitting words.

Miranda cut her off with a pointed look, having heard more than enough. As always, no matter what, she clutched at the tenuous thread of self-control. She would survive this as she'd endured all else. She was Miranda fucking Priestly, even _this _wasn't allowed to break her.

"Julia, take the day off, I want you off the premises immediately. If I come down in five minutes and you're still here, I'll assume you're interested in employment somewhere else." With that Miranda left the kitchen.

Climbing the staircase, her mind cycled through the missed occasions, each one weighing down her steps until her feet seemed to be made of lead, too heavy to ever let her reach the top. When she eventually got to her bedroom, she discarded her clothes haphazardly, for once treating the expensive Valentino with no care. In the bathroom, she approached the mirror in trepidation – for whilst it was used to apply a meticulous façade, there was a difference between looking and _seeing_. When was the last time that she'd truly viewed herself? When had she started avoiding her own eyes, scared of what lay within? Or more importantly, what didn't.

She knew all of her nicknames – Ice-Queen, She-Devil, so many more – proud to have earned each one, she would apologise for none. Yet she was driven by a mantra, one sole purpose of her current life – work, get ahead, accrue – all for her girls. They would be left a legacy, one that would match any that they should've had. Wanting for nothing, they'd grow up happy and carefree, secure in their mother's love.

The pools of blue from within the mirror mocked her mercilessly with their whispers.

_Love, what do they know of love? _

She trembled. Her reflection shed a tear, a lone trail forming on her cheek.

_Are missed dinners – love?_

Another tear joined the first. Miranda clutched the counter, gripping it painfully; in desperation attempting to regain control.

_Material things for every time that you aren't there, are they love?_

The flood rose to the brim, Miranda helpless to prevent it spilling over.

_A new 'father' to ignore, is that love?_

She tried to look away, break free; remained a willing captive of her blurry stare.

_And when they don't even notice you're gone, well then, that **must** be love._

Sobbing now, Miranda threw her arm out, destroying the mirror as if that act alone would obliterate the truth. As it shattered on the marble floor, she turned and staggered to the shower, her hand shaking so badly that it slipped twice on the knob before she managed to turn it to piping hot, full blast. Sinking under the unforgiving pummelling, she curled herself into a ball and wept for who she used to be. And later, mocking voice still ringing in her ears, she frenetically scrubbed raw skin trying to erase what she'd become.


	9. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

"**Love has a way of cheating itself consciously, like a child who plays at solitary hide-and-seek; it is pleased with assurances that it all the while disbelieves." – **George Elliot

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Just over 240 years ago – Andrea's 25****th**** Birthday**

"What happened to recapping the esoteric realm procedures that I _must_ be able to demonstrate toni --"

Miranda stopped Andrea's speech with a kiss, smoothly moving her towards the bed; as usual encountering little resistance. They lay side by side for a few moments, kissing gently while loosening clothing, as practiced hands roamed familiar bodies. Leaning in slightly, Miranda whispered into the long dark hair falling around her cheeks, "Silly girl, haven't you realised by now that it needs to be on my terms? I really thought you'd have caught on a while ago." Pulling even closer to the warm body next to her, Miranda flashed a triumphant smile as she grasped one of Andrea's hands and gently pinned it above her lover's head, as if to prove her point.

Andrea allowed herself to be pushed on her back, and even gasped in mock indignation for Miranda's benefit. She found herself smiling at her lover as Miranda pulled their bodies closer together, one hand securing Andrea's in their usual display of humorous dominance, while the other slowly moved down Andrea's neck towards the tempting curve of her shoulder.

Andrea slipped her arm around Miranda, embracing her and lightly caressing a path across her back at the same time offering her neck up to be kissed. She let out a contented sigh at the familiarity of the secure and peaceful feeling Miranda inspired in her. Andrea pulled her down tighter, pressing Miranda's body into her own. Losing her train of thought, she began to focus on the heat spreading down from her jaw line towards her chest as Miranda's lips began to descend in their usual teasing pattern. Perhaps inspired by the previous quip, Andrea lightly bit her lip to stop a smile as a mischievous thought entered her mind. Wriggling her captive hand free, she plucked Miranda's chin up from her chest and kissed her firmly; enjoying the raised eyebrow she was awarded for her actions.

"Not yet. Stay here."

Miranda looked into Andrea's flushed and smiling face and remained still, not simply because she was asked to, but because the eyes she glanced down into held more than a hint of promise and desire. _She is so beautiful._ A simple thought, Miranda knew. Nevertheless, it was one that didn't seem to diminish, even after the initial infatuation of the first few months had passed. Miranda felt privileged to be the one to hold this woman, to laugh and roll her eyes at her, rue her persistent optimism. What was it about this intimate act that seemed to draw out so much beauty?

Satisfied that Miranda would obey her, Andrea cupped the face looming above her one last time before trailing her fingertips down towards the centre of Miranda's chest. Pivoting her wrist until her palm was pressed up against Miranda she slowly but deliberately pushed her hand down the middle of her body, finally coming to rest on the small swell of her belly. She leaned up and kissed Miranda's neck, jaw, then lips, before moving her hand lower still until she felt Miranda slowly exhale and arch her back, trapping Andrea's hand in between both their bodies.

Wanting to be able to touch her freely, Andrea ran her other hand down Miranda's back and over smooth curves where she gently tugged at one thigh until Miranda acquiesced. Bringing her left thigh over, Miranda positioned herself over Andrea until both were comfortable, their legs intertwined. Andrea was pleased as the small move afforded her the ability to stroke Miranda gently while their bodies pressed against each other. As she began to touch her, she brought Miranda's head down into her neck and took the full weight of her body, allowing Miranda to simply lie on top of her and focus on Andrea's fingertips.

Miranda inhaled the scent of skin and pressed her mouth tighter to Andrea's neck so she could better muffle the moans that the other woman was drawing from her. It was a unique experience for her to feel such tenderness at the hands of a lover, one that was becoming more than a habit of late. Taking pleasure at that thought, she surrendered to the caress of fingers on her body, loving how her moan wrought an answering gasp from Andrea, intensifying her own excitement. The muscles in her stomach and thighs began to ache, complimenting and heightening the sensation of Andrea's sweet touch, as she held her trembling hips still over her lover's hand. With every stroke thought and reason diminished until all she could take in was the woman touching her body with such hunger in her eyes. Allowing herself to succumb to the overwhelming feelings emanating from the woman in her arms, Miranda began to flush and held Andrea tighter.

The overriding sensation Andrea was aware of was heat. Miranda's taut body pressed in around her unyieldingly, poised on the very brink of release. Andrea reciprocated the tightened grasp by curling her arm around the small of Miranda's back, devoting the rest of her efforts to maintaining the circular rhythm that was bringing about Miranda's pleasure. The brunette began to breathe heavily, the strain of their bodies causing sweat to trickle down her chest. She could feel skin pulsing against her finger tips, a quiver take hold of Miranda's hips. Andrea tried to turn her head to look at Miranda's face, so she could see the final moment, but it was buried so tight in her neck that it was impossible. Then she felt the other woman's body go rigid for a split second, followed by the uneven quavering of her hips. The proximity of Miranda's mouth to her ear amplified the older woman's cry as she gasped her release, causing Andrea to exhale her own answering moan and soften the embrace. Still clinging to her lover, Miranda shuddered as the aftershocks pulsed leisurely through her body. Andrea continued to touch her slowly, being careful not to push the sated woman to the point of uncomfortable sensation. Pleased, Andrea relaxed her body, stilling her hand and placing a kiss on Miranda's smiling lips.

Miranda looked down at Andrea's face, accustomed to seeing the expression in the younger woman's eyes – open and trusting, to the point of recklessness. She'd wondered at first if she herself had ever been innocent enough for such abandon, but concluded almost instantly that she had not. Sometimes this brought resentment, Miranda wishing she could tear this ignorance apart with her bare hands, rebuild Andrea in a way which made her ready for this world. More often than not it brought contentment, as it did now, and a fierce desire that she could spend forever shielding this purity from its inevitable end.

"My turn." The bewitching voice interrupted her reverie, gently sucking on Miranda's earlobe before playfully biting down, chastising the older woman for her lapse in concentration. Miranda's response turned from a warning growl to a helpless groan as those lips gently sucked and licked their way down the line of her jaw. Turning her face, she captured those teasing lips, her tongue sharply invading Andrea's mouth in a wordless show of dominance. She lost herself in the depth of the kiss, absorbing a moan, maybe two, before the insistent knocking on the door penetrated her consciousness. Andrea clutched at her as Miranda moved to withdraw.

"No. Don't answer. Pretend that we aren't here."

Miranda almost melted at the raw need in that whisper.

The knocking grew louder. "Counsellor," the loud booming voice made Miranda wince, "the queen requests your presence in the Grand Hall."

"I'll…" She inhaled sharply, feeling her fingers pushed into the wet heat between Andrea's thighs. The helpless jerk of hips that followed this encased them further, trapping them in a silken cocoon. "…be there as soon I can." She wasn't sure quite how she managed to finish that sentence or how controlled she sounded to the person on the other side of the door, lost as she was becoming in the enchanting actions of her lover. "You're getting too good at this." She whispered, regaining control of her hand, only to push her fingers in deeper.

Trying to swallow her moans, Andrea retorted, "I learned from the best", before her hips started to jolt more erratically, her breathing harsh in the quiet of the room. Knowing she was close, Miranda continued the motion of her hand but leaned down to her ear, "Tonight…when you are sitting at the table, a picture of propriety and decorum as you converse about the kingdom's affairs, politely thanking them for their birthday regards, your intricate gown hand-made and laboured over for the best part of the last six moons, all I want you to think about…" She paused, stilling her hand. Andrea shuddered and mewled, trying to lift her hips in frustration at the lack of friction just when she was almost there. "…is how it'll feel against your skin when I take you exactly like this later." With that, Miranda plunged her fingers in to the hilt, wringing a helpless cry from Andrea, the combination of physical and mental onslaught pushing her over the edge. Clutching at Miranda, she half rose, squeezing every drop of blood from those fingers as she contracted around them, before collapsing back down in exhaustion.

After a few moments, her lethargic gaze met Miranda's. "Stay a while." The statement was both plea and order in one.

Miranda shook her head regretfully. "I can't, the queen expects me. I'm already late." Starting to dress, Miranda hastened, realisation dawning as to who it was she was actually keeping waiting.

"My mother can wait. Tell her your instruction went on…longer than you planned." With that, Andrea moistened her lips, eyeing Miranda imploringly.

The first predictable frisson of irritation surfaced. "I'm not your plaything, Andrea. I'm paid to advise the queen, something I'm sorely neglecting as we speak."

Andrea pouted petulantly, an expression Miranda detested as much as she wanted to kiss it off her face. "I will be queen one day. Then you'll be paid to _advise_ me." Her tone made clear what that advice would entail.

Resentment coiled in Miranda's belly, Andrea's words an unpleasant reminder of what she'd long been trying to overlook. The next words were harsher, more sardonic than she'd intended them to be. "Well, let's hope that doesn't happen any time soon."

Twin spots of crimson bloomed on Andrea's cheeks, hurt flashing in her eyes. Miranda fought the immediate urge to soothe, refusing to lie and tell Andrea she hadn't meant it. Instead she sighed, pausing next to the bed.

"I have my duties, Andrea, as do you. Never lose sight of what comes first."

Having made the statement, she bent to bestow a hard punishing kiss, as if hoping her lips could physically imbed the lesson, the words throughout the years had not.


	10. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

"**We call a child's mind "small" simply by habit; perhaps it is larger than ours is, for it can take in almost anything without effort**.**"– **Christopher Morley

* * *

**Aspen – 2 years ago**

It wasn't the shock of the ice cold water but of the deep extending darkness that disorientated Caroline. The blackness enclosed her completely, inky tendrils hungering to reach inside and extinguish her body's meagre spark. The silence smothered logical thought so she decided to float for a while, regroup until she was able to better plan. Irrationally her morbid musings got her thinking about the colour of her casket. Would it be open or closed? Likely closed; she'd watched enough TV to know those who drowned looked pretty bad. If Cassidy picked black, Caroline would kill her. Come back as a ghost and find a way to physically kill her. Or at least she'd make her own dead body move at the funeral, flip open the lid, or do something equally risqué. Imagining the look on her sister's face, she grinned at the potential of otherworldly pranks.

Something slimy brushed her arm.

Kicking backwards in blind panic, she propelled herself away from the unknown object until she found herself under a beam of light. Puzzled by its presence, she looked up and suddenly realised how far away the surface seemed.

The surface!

Reality interjected; Caroline actually remembering where she was. That awareness led to recognition of a burning pain – lungs desperately screaming for air. She kicked again but this time upwards, beginning a laborious fight with the darkness determined not to let her go. Halfway up, valuable seconds were spent shirking off her jacket, Caroline thanking her foul mood for leaving it unbuttoned when she'd set out on her trek. Shoes followed, fashionably untied laces making it a synch to cast them off as well. Finally, almost ready to give up her sluggish ascent, she broke the surface.

Desperately inhaling a lungful of air, she tried to latch onto a piece of ice, but tipping vertically under her weight it sent her plunging down again. This time the darkness appeared lighter in places as if her eyes could now discern its various shades. The silence was hushed, soothing rather than overwhelming, as though having studied its prey the water changed its tactics. Instead of invading, it seduced, caressing Caroline with gentle lukewarm fingers.

That snapped her out of her reverie.

Taking note of her surroundings, she reviewed the situation.

_Middle of winter_? Check.

_Ice_? She glanced up just to make sure. Check.

_No jacket and shoes_? Check.

_Lukewarm_?!

Habit prompted her to reach out a hand to test the water – she'd had colder showers. They'd read about warm currents in geography class but this was absurd. Feeling the burn of her lungs, she struggled to the surface once again. Inhaling, she ignored the ice this time, sinking back down, curiosity propelling her further out to the centre of the lake. Maybe it was just this spot and she'd gotten lucky, maybe --

It wasn't until she resurfaced some way out that she admitted that it hadn't been a fluke. The water wasn't chilly, and now that she truly thought on it, the air was pretty warm as well. She puzzled over how strange this was. Wait till she told --

_Cassidy_.

Suddenly remembering her sister's frantic cries she hurriedly swam back towards the ice.

* * *

"Are you crazy?! What the hell are you doing?!" Cassidy re-surfaced with a yell, stunned to find herself deliberately tipped into the water.

Caroline's unrepentant grin only added to her anger and worry.

"Wha…are you trying to kill us both? We've got to get out of here! Hang on." Spinning round whilst treading water, Cassidy made a futile grab for the ice.

The edge crumbled in her hands.

"Why?" Caroline's ridiculous question spun her round to confront her sister.

"Why? Oh my god, you've been in the water way too long! David's told me stories before. He said hypothermia…and you aren't thinking…and now I'm not thinking…because I can't even…" Cassidy began to hyperventilate in panic.

"Cass. Cass, look at me. Come on!" Getting no reaction, Caroline forcefully ran her hand along the surface of the water, a resultant spray of droplets showering Cassidy's face.

Spluttering in indignation, Cassidy shouted, "Caro, I swear…"

Caroline continued to grin. "How cold are you right now?"

"How cold? Freezing! Do you know the temperature of this lake in winter? Because that guidebook I picked up…" Cassidy tailed off at the sight of her sister's widening smirk. "What? What the hell's so funny? Caro, honestly, if you don't stop…"

"Caaasssiidddyyy." Caroline drawled her name ever so slowly, the exact way that irritated Cassidy to no end. "How. Cold. Are. You. Right. Now?" Each word was punctuated by playful swipes, each one soaking Cassidy a little more.

Now drenched by both water and fury, Cassidy redoubled her efforts to climb up onto the ice. Her sister was officially stark raving mad; it would serve her right if she left her there to drown. Actually, it would be sweeter to help her out, leaving her to freeze out on the ice. No, even better, Cassidy would rescue her then tell their mother about that expensive vase Caroline broke at Easter. Now _that_ was certain to wipe the smirk off her sister's face.

"Fine, suit yourself," was uttered from behind her. "I'll just continue my lovely swim while you go on huffing and puffing over there. If you need me, you know where I'll be." The words were followed by an ominous splash.

"Caro?" Turning round, Cassidy was met by the still expanse of water. "Caro, this isn't funny. Caro?" Hesitant, she vacillated between safety and danger, weighing up which choice was smarter. Coming to a predictable conclusion, she sighed that birth tasked her with keeping her sister out of trouble.

* * *

The minute she dove under again, she spotted the horizontal sliver of light that twinkled in the distance. The fact that its source didn't seem to originate from the surface prompted Caroline to have a closer look. Propelling herself forward, Cassidy was temporarily forgotten. The closer she got the more the light appeared to gently shimmer, ripples running along its length. All of a sudden, it began to slowly open, like a dormant eye coming awake at last.

She strained to see but the light was so entirely blinding that she couldn't distinguish what it revealed. All she was sure of was that, whatever this was, she wanted to be part of it. Suddenly, she was roughly yanked back, her sister's gaze encountering her own. Motioning with her hand, Cassidy indicated they should resurface. As if sensing her reluctance to do so, Cassidy's tugging became more insistent, Caroline eventually giving in.

"What. Is that?" Cassidy gasped out, inhaling deeply between words.

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like this."

"Caro, we shouldn't be here. I don't know how we can…" She indicated the water as if unsure of what to say. "…and why it feels…but I am sure there's an explanation…and Mum will be so mad if we --"

Caroline wavered at the mention of Miranda's anger, her hand unconsciously clutching the pendant in her jeans. As soon as she did so, a tremor rippled across the surface of the lake. Both girls looked at each other, then down; the strange light now openly visible from the surface.

Caroline looked up at Cassidy. "I have to go. I don't know why, but I have to go. I have to see." Her voice came out as a plea. Cassidy hesitated, bit her lip and nodded.

Together both girls dived.

* * *

As soon as her sight adjusted, Cassidy saw such pristine white that it hurt her eyes. She couldn't see where one thing ended, another began; for all blurred together under the colour's dominance. Only by concentrating intently on one spot did she eventually make out bushes, benches, and a fountain. _Some sort of park_, she thought – covered in snow so heavy that it was impossible to believe a time existed when it didn't fall.

The silence hit her next, the stillness so absolute, she fancied you could hear each snowflake touch the rest as it joined them in covering a surface.

She saw _her_ last, for she was almost as immersed in snow as her surroundings. But in the white there were hints of brown – a visitor rather than a long term occupant – despite whatever desires snow had of claiming her. The brown was sparse for her dress was immaculately white; the woman's face almost as equally as pale, paler than any human's had a right to be. For a terrifying split second Cassidy was sure that the woman was dead. Almost immediately she saw the snowflakes gently flutter, disturbed by the drawing of a breath. Cassidy felt an answering exhale of relief. Having forgotten she was under water, this action emptied the only air in her lungs, forcing her to kick to the surface once more.

Pausing to greedily inhale some air, she instantly returned back to the light. In her absence, Caroline had swum much closer, one hand reaching for the white, eager to join its occupant. Instinctively Cassidy kicked harder, grabbing her sister's t-shirt as she reached her. Whilst temporarily halting her progress, it served to make Caroline struggle all the more, appearing not fully conscious of her actions.

Suddenly feeling an icy shiver, Cassidy finally grasped the meaning of the phrase "someone walking over my grave". The woman's eyes flew open, pinning them as objects under a microscope. At first glance, Cassidy's initial fears eased, noting the woman's eyes were burnished mahogany. Her mother adored the colour brown, often commenting on its kindness and warmth (something Cassidy always considered rather odd, and yet had never mentioned out loud).

But this brown didn't feel warm; instead its sharpness stripped her, peeled away the layers of skin to what lay underneath. She wanted to hide, grab Caroline and run – escape to where those eyes couldn't see them any longer. Her arm was sharply yanked as Caroline fought her, straining to become one with the white that now spilled over, slowly reaching for them both.

Helplessly, her gaze drew to the eyes once more. A shiver coursed through her, for the first time that night the cold truly stinging as it should. For that stare was almost blank – held nothing bar coldness; examining them the way she'd seen Teresa's snake eye the rodent in its cage, right before it had lunged, swallowing the mouse in one gulp.

The cold was worse now; icy water lapping at her skin, its unyielding grasp pulling her to the light below. She tried to swim but Caroline dragged her down, providing a counterbalance she couldn't overcome. Her muscles attempted to increase their workload, her body responding to her brain's urge. She couldn't feel her hands, water chilling them completely numb. That numbness, combined with the lack of oxygen, made black spots dance across her vision. Ever more futile, she sustained her fight, determined to save them both, from what she didn't know.

* * *

Caroline huddled herself under the blanket, the doctor having finished examining her. She could tell by his frown that what he'd found made no sense. Reviewing the chart as if he expected it to tell a different story, he eventually simply shook his head and walked away.

Jumping down from her bed, she climbed up onto Cassidy's. Her sister was still unconscious, her lips tinged with a faint blue. Reverently stroking Cassidy's cheek, Caroline heard the faint plop as each fat tear hit the bedding where she sat. Whatever had take place down in that lake, she'd never meant for it to end like this. All she remembered were those piercing eyes, offering her things she'd never known she wanted, but had apparently so longed to have. She'd been close to something so momentous and yet the instant her sister's arm went slack, she'd turned just for a second, observing in alarm the closed eyes and pallor of her skin. The minute she'd reached for Cassidy with both arms, she'd felt the connection snap, plunging the water into darkness. Seconds later, shapes dove from the surface, hands reaching for them both.

Now at the local hospital, she'd been the subject of many examinations, questions and puzzled frowns. The news that their mother was on the way made Caroline wince, doctors chalking up her grimace to residual shock. The truth was, Caroline was well aware of what was coming; this scenario her own groundhog day. Her mother would start with anger (using that quiet voice), move onto disappointment, all of it ending in that hooded blank expression.

But tonight was bad, much worse than usual – Cass getting hurt, her mother still furious over the family dinner. What if she wasn't forgiven? What if she was sent away?

Then she'd never see any of them again.

Climbing out of her sister's bed, she allowed the blanket to hit the floor. She would run away, leave first, before they made her. Moving to the door, she peeked out at the empty corridor, tiptoeing until she could hear the nurse's station round the corner.

The sound of her mother's low pitched voice stopped her in her tracks. "Then you had better check again…"

"Mrs Priestly, there are no other tests…"

"Please bore someone else with details of your incompetence. You tell me my daughters were in the water for fifteen minutes in this sub-zero temperature, and the worst of it is mild shock? Enlighten me – did you cut your degree out from a cereal packet?"

Hearing the insult, Caroline couldn't help her mouth's upward twitch. Her mother really was something else when all of_ that_ was not aimed squarely at you.

"Mrs Priestly…"

"Enough. I want to see my girls immediately and then I want to speak to the director of the board, _in person_. The experience of the staff here is clearly so deplorable I've a mind to have the entire place shut down. I doubt your idea of administering _help_ is quite the same as any of your patients', it's a wonder no-one's sued you." The threat continued to linger even as the clicking footsteps signalled her departure.

Realising the only escape route led back to her room, Caroline made the choice to face her mother's wrath head on. Each clack of the heels was a sound of impending doom, desperation making Caroline sweat. Reaching into the pocket of her pants, she clutched again at the pendant transferred there. The shape that met her hand was chilly, far cooler than it should've been, having rested next to Caroline's skin. But unlike that day so many years ago, it seemed to pulse in sympathy, infusing her with courage. The clicking was just a foot away now, Caroline inhaling and exhaling rapidly, trying to prepare for the confrontation. Her mother rounded the corner, her gaze landing on her daughter.

Caught mid-inhale, the young girl stilled and held her breath.

For the second time in Caroline's short life, Miranda Priestly shocked her daughter. In place of anger shone fear; a substitute for disappointment – relief; and overriding it all, blazed a profound love.

Her mother crumpled under an invisible weight; Caroline instantly wrapped in a warm, fragrant embrace. "Oh God, Caroline, I could've lost you both tonight. I am sorry, so sorry…so stupid…" The force of her mother's sobs shook both their bodies.

Stunned, Caroline felt a trickle of tears, relief at this unforeseen escape. The pendant lost its chill, yet again becoming just a piece of glass; Caroline vowing that the minute she got back, she would return it to its rightful place, never to take it once again.


	11. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

"**The events we bring upon ourselves, no matter how unpleasant, are necessary in order to learn what we need to learn; whatever steps we take, they're necessary to reach the places we've chosen to go.****"** – Richard Bach

* * *

_When Andy first found out she'd be queen someday, she'd grinned a happy gap-toothed smile, then blithely dug back into her piece of cake. __Her one concession to this knowledge became placing crowns on her dolls, which she proceeded to marry off to a long line of frogs, the abundance of which made this exercise never ending__. Each marriage was fleeting, inevitably the frogs never staying too long, however, they didn't seen unhappy in their time of matrimony, always choosing to come back. So Andy_, _with a child's simple logic_, _determined that marrying a queen must be a pleasing thing._

_As the years passed each newly learnt edict challenged this ideal, and yet she stubbornly clung to her lone conviction _–_ one day, she too, would find her frog._

_One that would never leave._

**Realm – Ashadriel – Just over 247 years ago – Andrea's 18****th**** Birthday**

Frowning hard in concentration Andy examined her reflection, hoping her persistent stare would change it into what she wanted it to be. Sighing gloomily she trailed her fingers through the water, watching her reflection slowly ripple, re-settling into exactly what it'd been before.

"Do you plan to sit and sulk here all day or will we be graced with your presence prior to the celebration?" The gentle admonition made Andy glance up at her mother.

Met by a quizzical look, she made an effort to plaster a smile on her face. "I'm sorry. I'll be there in a little bit, I promise." She lowered her gaze back down, expecting to be left alone. Time passed and when she didn't hear the tread of footsteps, she raised her head again, this time faced with a thoughtful stare instead.

"Andy." The queen approached her daughter, taking a seat beside her on the stone rim of the fountain. The action itself was not unusual, the queen often visiting the garden to enjoy her daughter's lively company. What startled Andy was the nickname falling from her mother's lips, the use of which Isabella herself forbade so long ago. "What is it? All I've heard for the last nine moons is how you couldn't wait for this day to come. Yet here you are, sitting in this very spot all morning, looking as though the weight of the world rests on your shoulders."

Andy's eyes welled up at this accurate assessment; instinctively turning away, she hoped her mother wouldn't notice. A sigh, followed by a gentle nudge of fingers on her chin, moved Andy's head back into the path of warm concern. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

Her mother's worry pushed Andy over the edge, twin drops spilling over to slowly trickle down her cheeks. "Did someone upset you? Hurt you in some way?" The queen's tone remained gentle yet conveyed not only how troubled this notion made her but that she wasn't prepared to leave until she had her answer.

Andy had to swallow several times before she managed to choke out, "No. It's nothing like that. It's just --" She stopped.

Her mother's look wordlessly prompted her to go on.

"I thought it would be…different." Pausing to suppress a sob she carried on. "More." Another pause, a broken half-sob this time, "I thought I would be more."

With both maternal instinct and insight borne of rule, the queen mulled over what to say before she voiced her question. "Who makes you want to be something you're not, Andrea?"

Andy looked down in silence, unwilling to discuss _this_ topic. Several moments passed before the queen sighed, trying a different tactic. "What is it that you wish you had?"

"What they have."Andy gestured vaguely towards the village in the distance, trying to suppress more tears.

"And what is that?"

"Whatever makes h…" She corrected herself just in time. "…them be admired, wanted, seen." Each word dripped bitterness and resignation.

"Mmm, yes, I think I do see." Isabella hid a knowing smile, aware that in this moment it would be met with a hostile reception. Too lost in sombre thoughts, Andy failed to notice her mother's lighter tone. "And have you," the queen swallowed another smile, "let this person know how you feel?"

"No. What's the point?" Andy answered bleakly. "As far as they are concerned, I might as well not even exist. They'd probably prefer it."

"Then maybe you should let them know the truth. What if they feel the same?" Reassured that nothing major needed fixing here, the queen rose gracefully, bestowing her final words. "After all, life's full of surprises."

Following up with a very un-queen-like wink, she bent to press a kiss into her daughter's hair, confident that some passing fancy would likely be stammering their admiration into Andrea's ears tonight. And if that wasn't to be the case, well then, first heartbreak faded quickly; serving only to add to the layer "experiences" which formed the foundation of them all.

* * *

Flushed from the celebrations, full to the brim of hope and mead, Andy sped to the garden confident tonight her life would change forever. She'd mapped out everything in her head – there'd be a courtship followed by a marriage ceremony under her favourite tree, just the two of them (much more romantic), then eventually the public ceremony for show, and finally two children: one girl, one boy. Once Andrea ascended to the throne they would rule the kingdom together for the next…maybe two centuries or so – it was going to be better than any --

Her day dreams halted as abruptly as her body, which rebounded off something solid, landing her on her backside.

"Your highness, I apologise! I didn't see you…I…" The other body – a servant – immediately stammered his apologies, rushing to her side. "I'll have a physician attend to you immediately…let me…"

"Oh no, I am f-f-fine. R-r-really, I am fine." Andy stuttered in turn, perfectly aware that whilst custom bid this man to wring his hands in supplication, practically prostrating his body on the floor before her – the blame for this lay squarely at Andy's own feet. "It was entirely my fault. I was too busy thinking about --" Remembering exactly what that was brought another smile to her lips and hastened her uncoordinated rising motion. "Um…Samuel…I _am_ sorry…really…I'd stay and help you clean up but I have something ever so important to attend to." The apology tumbled over her shoulder in a rush as she resumed her purposeful pace, aware she could not be late.

Eventually arriving at her destination, she nervously paced up and down the pathway, rehearsing over and over what she was going to say. Once her own repetitive litany started giving her a headache, she knelt by the koi pond, criticising her reflection for the hundredth time that day.

_Hair_? Curled and twisted up at the back in a loose chignon, several strands framing her face becomingly. Or so she'd been informed by everyone tonight.

_Face_? Andy grimaced a little. Apparently simply wishing to be prettier didn't work, but people had always complemented her eyes – the kindest there ever were (or so her mother told her). And kind was sort of, uh, nice.

_Figure_? She looked herself up and down. Well, at least the dress seemed to make the best of her poor lot. Though Chancellor Gershin had spent a portion of the evening talking to somewhere south of her face, so maybe things were better in that area than she'd thought.

Satisfied that her appearance was as good as it would get, Andy's dreamy thoughts turned to her first kiss. She'd heard enough servant girls giggling and gossiping about their own, even witnessed some peeking round corners; diligent notes later to be intently perused and practiced on the mirror in private. Would it be short and sweet or long and passionate? Pondering the merits of each one, she hoped to experience both.

But what if it was wet and sloppy, something neither of them enjoyed?

Instantly awash with all new fears, Andy decided that there was really no harm in practicing just one more time. Slowly lowering her face closer to the glassy surface of the pond, she stared hard so as her mouth looked just…right. "Oh…" Sighing the desired noise of passion, she closed the distance, allowing her lips to gently brush the cool and wet of her reflection's, just as a voice uttered acerbically,

"Is there a water shortage at the palace I don't know about? Or is there another reason I find you drinking from the pond as if you're some sort of wild animal?"

Andy inhaled a breath of liquid, coughing and spluttering immediately. "Umm…Miranda…" Wheezing she jumped up, practically tripping over herself in her haste to face the person she'd been waiting for. "W-w-what are you…I-I-I mean, you are early. I mean…Good evening…" she finished weakly, surreptitiously trying to clear her throat.

Miranda simply lifted an eyebrow; a look saying more than others using several words. Andy flushed in embarrassment. "Um…this isn't q-quite how this was supposed t-to go." Stuttering, she frantically tried to corral her thoughts which had, as they were wont to do around Miranda, scattered to every distant corner of her mind.

"Hmm…yes, I am sure." Miranda pursed her lips. "I often wonder if that phrase was invented specifically with you in mind."

Flushing harder, Andy knew her face had to resemble a tomato. Why didn't things ever go to plan? She was supposed to dazzle with her witty repartee, flirt shamelessly, confess her feelings, and then for the grand finale – procure a kiss under the moonlit stars that served to seal their love forever. Instead Miranda looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else, her face a mask of bored disdain Andy inspired with such ease.

"Was I invited here for the sole purpose of observing the momentous drinking feat or is there more, perhaps a bush requiring a nibble?"

The first prickle of tears stung Andy's eyes.

She wanted to stamp her foot, command the real Miranda the way she controlled the one in Andy's head. Better yet, she wished she could wave a magic wand and reverse the last few minutes, start again, make it go the way that it was meant to. Valiantly, she gave it one more try. "Well, what I wanted to say was…you know…it's been…I'm…I just turned…and I'd like to…"

Andy's pitiful attempts at speech petered out the second she realised she wasn't making any sense. Utter mortification made her hope for some hitherto unknown seismic event to split the ground open underneath her feet, ensuring that at least her pathetic efforts weren't the most memorable thing that night.

Miranda waited just long enough to ensure Andy had finished before applauding with a slow sardonic clap. "Bravo. Fascinating. No, truly. I can only hope this is the calibre of dialogue that we'll continue to experience for _many_ years to come. Well, learning telepathy should certainly prove amusing, given that's clearly the key to understanding you."

The stinging in Andy's eyes considerably worsened, making her blink rapidly to relieve the burn.

"Is that all, Andrea? Because I really do have far more pressing matters to attend to. I believe Chancellor Ferdy's son was looking for company. He's only six but at least he's mastered the art of forming sentences." With that departing dig, Miranda spun to walk away.

Something ruptured inside Andy, triggering actions she hadn't known she possessed. Three strides took her to the redhead's side, the younger woman forcefully grasping Miranda's arm, pulling her around until they were face to face. "No." She said brokenly. "That's not all." And with that she grasped Miranda by the lapels of her jacket and yanked her closer, mashing their lips together by force.

She'd dreamt that the first kiss would be sweet and tender, gently conveying all the love that she'd been storing for years and years. Instead, it was full of anger and frustration – a powerful, painful yearning to have this woman acknowledge everything that lay within, all that she mocked and refused to see.

For just a moment it felt like Miranda's lips softened slightly, kissing her back, but the feeling was so fleeting that it might have been a mere fancy brought on by Andy's hopeless longing to have her desire be reciprocated. In the next instant Andy was vehemently flung away, Miranda erasing any visible trace of their kiss with a swipe of the hand across her mouth. Some emotion flashed in the depths of those eyes, one a distraught Andy couldn't possibly decipher, before all trace of it was gone, the blue reverting to its customary coolness.

"Well," the voice lowered to dangerously quiet. "You disappoint me again, Andrea. I had a notion that by now you might have actually accepted who you are and started to behave accordingly, but I see I was mistaken. I had so hoped to be finally faced with an adult today, one whose mother would be proud to call a future queen." Miranda paused, allowing her words to fully sink in. "Instead I see the same silly immature child who doesn't think twice about the consequences of her actions."

"I'm not a child!" The ragged shout was torn out of Andy; suppressed emotions clamouring within her chest allowing nothing else.

"Then stop acting like one." Miranda murmured. "What did you hope to gain by your actions? Did you really think --" Stopping momentarily, perhaps to gather her thoughts, Miranda continued to observe Andy dispassionately.

In that split second of pause, Andy, with a terrible moment of clarity, understood the next words would tear her apart. Her hands moved of their own volition, prepared to clap themselves over Miranda's mouth; her mouth formed syllables – begging Miranda to stop, not utter whatever was to be spoken.

As if aware of Andy's intent, Miranda instantly completed her thought, "that I would be interested in _you_?"

That one word – the utter contempt whose weight propelled it forward – tore right through Andy with power and speed, leaving behind a gaping bleeding wound. Her worst fears confirmed so callously unleashed the tears Andy had so desperately been trying to keep at bay, leaving them to pour down her cheeks unchecked.

Utterly unmoved, Miranda continued. "After all, we have _so_ much in common. Perhaps we could talk about the edicts I spend hours drafting, the same decrees I've seen you cast side the instant that your tutors turn away? Or maybe we can discuss the works of Hyets, Predaer or Derst, whose tomes lie in your library untouched? And last, but not least, perhaps we can reminisce about Counsellor Charron's speech that he gave this very day _twenty one_ years ago; the speech that inspired a _ten_…" She emphasised the difference in their age, "…year old to go into politics, that even now continues to inspire me still. I'm quite sure _you_ remember the occasion quite well, don't you, Andrea?"

"I…" Andy fought to say something, anything, that would halt this immeasurable assault; allow her to salvage what was left of heart and pride.

Forestalling her again Miranda sighed, "No no, that wasn't a question," suddenly appearing unbearably weary, as though the tirade had rebounded to take an equal inward toll. Half turning, she quietly delivered her parting shot, "Grow up, Andrea. And quickly. Your deeds determine us all."

Her shoulders seemed to sag as she departed the garden, leaving behind a stillness broken only by Andy's agonisingly heart-wrenching sobs.

* * *

Isabella stared out of the window, her breath fogging the ornate glass. This small sign of life was a welcome counter point to the pain inside her chest which felt much like death itself had taken residence within her body.

"It is as we feared, your majesty." The quiet voice behind her barely registered, only confirming what she'd already comes to terms with in her own mind.

"How bad, Laurence?"

"Well --" He faltered.

Turning around to confront her physician, Isabella tried to muster a warm expression which near immediately twisted into a grimace as pain flared more brightly. "Come Laurence, we have known each other too long for me to believe you're suddenly afraid to speak the truth."

His answering gaze and consequent half-smile were infused with sadness and pity.

She cared for neither.

"You don't have to spare me – I know I'm dying. I've lived a long and fruitful life, there's much that I've accomplished. Remember what I've been and what I am and do not pity me for what's to come."

"The pity is not for you, your majesty, but for the rest of us. The pain will get progressively worse as this illness takes hold. You may be able to fool others but soon those closest to you will see what you've been trying to hide, and every day they'll have to endure watching you diminish piece by piece. Medicinal herbs will halt the progress, maybe for many years to come, but it will only stave off the inevitable. There is _no_ cure, Isabella." His voice broke and he faked a cough trying to disguise it. "Not for the illness, nor for the sadness that I feel. Please, I beg that you don't ask it of me to pretend to not feel what I truly do."

The queen nodded her agreement, a poignant smile touching her lips. "You care too much, Laurence, you always have."

He flushed, his countenance openly reflecting love that he was constantly forced to hide. "I wish we had more time."

"I…" A knock interrupted, derailing both speech and pleasant thought. Isabella closed her eyes, fully aware this upcoming conversation would only bring pain of a different kind. Her advisor slipped into the room in silence, her eyes shooting sparks of stormy blue. Halting as she became aware of someone else's presence, she stiffened, giving the physician a cursory nod.

"Laurence", "Miranda". Despite the greeting's brevity, the non-formality conveyed a connection that went beyond the simple confines of those that served together side by side.

"I will take my leave." He bowed deeply as custom dictated.

"Thank you, Laurence. The matter discussed remains between the two of us for now." The unyielding tone brooked no argument.

"Of course, your majesty." The neutral voice revealed no hint of his emotion, the physician too practiced to make a slip in front of even those almost as close to the queen as him.

Forced to turn around lest she betray herself, the queen stilled her shaking left hand with the right, pinning it to the window sill the way she wished she could restrain her pain. She acknowledged that Miranda deserved to have Isabella face her, cursing the weakness for making that something that in this moment she couldn't give.

"We need to send word to Elnora immediately. Hand-write the missive expressing my deepest sincerest apologies for what transpired this evening. Please note there are circumstances I cannot disclose and assure her I _will_ right the grievous wrong that was done to her tonight. Once you have finished, bring the note to me, I will sign and seal it myself."

"Yes, your majesty."

"Tomorrow you leave at dawn to deliver this missive directly to the queen. Your presence will serve to lend credence to this action, convey my sincerity in making amends. Of course, it is I that should be going in your place but --" Isabella hesitated, positive there were certain things she needed to know before Miranda could be trusted with the truth.

"Her majesty has _never_ needed to justify her decisions to me." The stiffness and unusual formality were in themselves enough, but the unspoken discord lacing Miranda's tone pushed it beyond any reasonable doubt. Her advisor was angry and Isabella knew exactly why.

"You're right, a ruler never needs to justify, however when her actions are out of the ordinary, she should always explain." The familiar admonition carried a message Isabella knew Miranda still struggled to understand.

"No explanations are necessary." As usual, Miranda's antagonism was ice cold. "I did what I had to do."

"What you _had_ to do?" Isabella's need for answers made her weigh up the consequences of revealing herself too early. Deciding the alternative was equally as costly, she turned so she could look into Miranda's eyes, carefully keeping the trembling hand hidden. "And you're so very good at following orders, aren't you, Miranda?" She mocked, knowing precisely where to strike.

Predictably, her advisor's face hardened visibly, becoming as rigid as the marble of the chamber's walls.

"We all saw the cost of your 'duty' earlier. Tell me how hard did you devastate her given that subsequently she wasn't able to issue one word of apology for her clumsiness, to a sovereign far greater than herself? I'm aware that you two have your differences but even _you_ would be hard pressed to deny how out of character that was. Andrea may be gauche but she's never ungracious. Whatever you said to her now leaves us in a quandary of great magnitude. Elnora's temper is fodder for many tales. She does not easily forgive."

Miranda's jaw clenched tighter at the reprimand but she remained silent.

Seeing that guilt would not elicit the truth that she was looking for, the monarch changed direction. "What if earlier on tonight I hadn't determined her fascination was fixed on you? What if I hadn't taken you aside, given you direct instruction to reject her lightly? Tell me, counsellor, would you be in my daughter's chamber now, whispering sweet nothings in her ear? Infatuated already, still a child, it wouldn't have taken much to push that into love. Were you tempted, Miranda?" Isabella's voice was a melodic crescendo. "Were you enticed by the thought of being queen?"

An indecipherable emotion flashed briefly across Miranda's eyes before her features transformed into an implacable facade, the one even Isabella struggled to read. During political negotiations with opposing counsel this mask proved itself invaluable, in their current private setting – only troubling.

"We both know I would have done my duty." This time the glacial tone didn't disguise the blistering heat of fury.

Features softening, Isabella inclined her head in acknowledgement of Miranda's absolute conviction. Her burgeoning smile bore a hint of sadness for she knew first hand such principles carried a heavy price. "This is precisely why you've been chosen to be her First Advisor, Miranda, why I trust and value you above anyone else. You see what others don't, recognise sacrifices that require to be made; but while you execute my orders, you never leave doubt that each action undertaken is truly yours. This independence is something Andrea needs, will always require – far more solid substance than fickleness of fleeting passion."

Feeling another spasm coming, Isabella turned around just in time to conceal it, flinching at the scoring pain. Concentrating on simply breathing, as Laurence had instructed, she struggled to conclude the speech. "Take pride in what you are, Miranda, for not many so willingly accept what they must be. Often they require a thrust, and by its very nature, the gentler that action the less likely it is to propel them to their destination." Approval having infused her every word, Isabella fell silent, hoping she had succeeded in alleviating Miranda's dissonance.

When several moments passed and yet Miranda delayed her departure, the queen frowned at her own reflection, uncertain of what else either of them had to offer.

Finally, Miranda spoke. "And what if the destination isn't really of a person's choosing?"

The implicit meanings suffused the air between them, their weight impossible to ignore.

Isabella sighed, unconsciously closing her eyes to shut out the truth.

"Then we persuade them it's their_ only _choice."


	12. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Just a quick preface to say that Benjamin Disraeli and Pierre Charron are very much borrowed from our realm, of course. However, their words are infinitely wiser and more quotable than mine, so they were easier to use.

Chapter 10

* * *

"**There is no royal road to learning; no short cut to the acquirement of any art."** – Anthony Trollope

* * *

**Washington D.C. – Present Time**

Tracing the letters with her Mont Blanc pen, Miranda questioned for the countless time why the vision of her name alone continued to have such a profound effect.

_Andrea._

Six letters.

Three syllables.

One ache.

Every single fibre of Miranda's being craved the power to banish it, erase its existence from this world – the way she sometimes longed to cast out memories of _her_.

_Liar_ whispered her mind; conscience too staunch for such flimsy self-deception. _If you could, you'd think of her all day_. Reflexively Miranda's hand drifted to the pendant, the ingrained action requiring no conscious thought.

The buzz of the intercom cut across any further introspection.

"I have Stephen on line one for you, Miranda." Emily's crisp tones carried trepidation.

Miranda sighed in irritation – another problem to resolve. Her life these days was just a series of those. "Was I not clear earlier? Did I lapse into a foreign language when I told you to hold _all_ my calls?" The callous words were effortless – always hovering so close, barely concealed beneath the surface.

_Your words are weapon and shield._

Unbidden the memory flowed through her mind, the accompanying vision as sharp as if the events in question had but merely unfolded. Shaking her head to forcefully dismiss it, she told herself to focus on the now.

"No, Miranda. But he insists it's urgent and he says," Emily failed to suppress a clear gulp, "he's sick and tired of you refusing to take his calls." The redhead's description of the undoubtedly odious exchange had an apologetic air, unlikely the sentiment her husband had conveyed.

Irritation curled through Miranda at his presumptuousness he rated higher than her work. "Everything's urgent, Emily. Tell him to get in line with everybody else."

_I see still desperate to deny it._

Miranda ground her teeth in sheer frustration.

Go away.

Emily murmured something in the background before returning, "I'm sorry, Miranda. He says if you won't take his call, he's got no choice but to be here in twenty minutes. He also said that if it comes right down to it," Emily gave a dainty sniff, "he will physically remove my person to get through to you." Disdain dripped from her voice as she delivered the message, almost making Miranda break into a smile. She made a note to give Emily a raise for such a rare moment of amusement.

_Why is it you're so afraid to feel?_

Her fingers curled to form a fist – loyal body at war with treacherous mind. Coming instantly to a decision, she snapped out, "Driver. Coat. Move Senator Crilley to 3 o'clock. Tell Stephen to be at the townhouse in an hour, inform him that he'd better be on time. Call Leslie and schedule a 4pm for Monday. Make copies of the bill and send them out. Oh and Emily," Miranda paused, capping her pen, "if a cup of scalding coffee isn't in my hand the second I'm back, I'll take that as indication you're finally giving up your dismal attempt at a political career."

Not waiting for a response that'd never come, Miranda rose to exit the room, upcoming debacle already on her mind. True to form, Emily was waiting with coat and bag in outstretched arms as Miranda sailed past. For just a moment the turmoil in her mind eased, anchored by a constant she could always rely on. A thank you trembled on her lips, on the cusp of being released.

"Of course Miranda, I won't disappoint you," breathed Emily, enthusiasm incarnate.

_Take a chance, I won't disappoint you, _breathed Andrea, enthusiasm incarnate.

The now and then meshed in a seamless tapestry, Miranda helpless to distinguish where one ended, the other began. The thank you dissolved into a glare of derision, silent reproach for oblivious transgressions.

Grabbing her things, Miranda briskly marched to an empty elevator, perpetually ensnared by her past.

* * *

"Your customary pitiful attempt," tossing the parchment aside, Miranda tried to appear completely nonchalant as she raised her gaze to meet Andrea's. "But it'll have to do."

In truth, this was an outstanding piece of work; Miranda welcoming the tinge of pride that had so recently appeared with Andrea's efforts. At last, the elusive hints of her potential were coalescing into something tangible. A few more years and perhaps the girl would actually be ready for the task ahead.

"Mmm…high praise indeed." Andrea's eyes brimmed with scarcely hidden mirth, her lips twitching upward at the corners.

The onset of the radiant smile, coupled with the playful gleam in Andrea's eyes, shivered a swirl of longing through Miranda. Another altogether recent feeling – this one, however, far less welcome. Rejection was automatic, honed by years of practice. "I see still _desperate_ for my approval." Miranda's own mocking tone made her glance away, for once reluctant to observe its impact.

"Only where it's merited." The quietness of the answer belied the rancour of Andrea's next words. "I see still _desperate_ to deny it."

Startled by the unexpected comeback, Miranda's gaze whipped round sharply.

"What is it you're so afraid of?" The resolute stare that accompanied the question bore through Miranda with intent.

"I'm not afraid."

Before Miranda could make a scathing follow-up to her denial, Andrea continued, "Oh no, that's right, you're not afraid – you're terrified. Your words are both weapon and shield, serving to attack as a method of defence. Just as you're doing now."

"Really, An-dre-a?" Miranda drew out the syllables, infusing each with all the scorn that she could muster. "Pray enlighten me, as you seem to have such knowledge of myself – what is it that I guard against?"

"Me." The quiet word was akin to an explosion; the aftermath interrupted only by the shuffle of Andrea's shoes as she circled the desk to come lean by Miranda.

"You give yourself far too much credit." Miranda finally regained her voice; albeit more hoarse than she'd like.

"No, you've just never given me enough. I see right through you. Why is it you're so afraid to feel?"

_Because there's only one end to that._ The truth rose up as fast as bile, same pungent acidity, threatening release. Controlling herself as ruthlessly as since she'd been a child, Miranda buried it.

Andrea, perhaps attuned enough to sense her inner struggle, maybe through sheer dumb luck, served instantly to reassure, "Miranda, I would never hurt you." The fierce sincerity propelled Miranda to a fantasy where the brunette truly held the power to fulfil that promise. "At least, not intentionally." The daydream was immediately ripped away.

_Of course_.

Miranda chuckled mirthlessly. "A caveat already, there_ is_ something I've taught you after all."

Andrea blew out a heavy sigh. "You've taught me infinitely more."

A box was dragged over from the corner of the room, one unfamiliar to Miranda. Hefting it onto the desk, Andrea hopped up to perch beside it, crossing her legs and wiggling to find a comfortable position. The resultant proximity was far too close for Miranda's liking, their dresses tangling together.

A warning siren started to blare inside her head. "Andrea, I don't think --" Both she and the siren were silenced by the fleeting touch of a slender digit to her lips; Miranda pretending she didn't long to flick out her tongue and taste it.

Satisfied that she held the older woman's full attention, Andrea proceeded to remove things from the box. The first – several pieces of parchment paper – landed in Miranda's lap. A quick glance was all it took to recognise what she was looking at. "What's this?"

"A list of everything you've ever written."

Miranda rolled her eyes, immediately on far more solid ground. "Yes, Andrea, thank you for pointing that out. Your powers of observation are astonishing, as usual. Is this some kind of test?"

"If you'd like for it to be."

Andrea's cryptic answer sparked movement and irritation. "I don't have time to indulge in childish games." A palm gently placed in the centre of her chest halted them both. Even through the stiff bindings of the corset and the layer of dress, the touch brought heat, a flush spreading from the point of contact.

"This isn't a game. You can ask me anything you want."

Miranda frowned at the statement. Glancing up and down, her mind raced through possible meanings, arriving at a conclusion too surreal to be true. "You can't be serious," she exclaimed in disbelief.

"I know them all." The reply held contrary but equal conviction.

Miranda slumped back into the comfort of her chair, too stunned for any mask of pretence. "How…I've written hundreds of things."

"To quote Disraeli – desperation is sometimes as powerful an inspirer as genius."

"You've read Disraeli?" Miranda felt the urge to pinch her arm to check this wasn't a dream, or more importantly – a nightmare.

"Mmm…" Andrea's smile hinted at satisfaction as her hand reached into the box once more. Her smile grew as one by one each pulled out volume hit the desk. "Also Hyets, Predaer, Derst. Care to debate the concept that the strongest principle of choice lies within human growth?"

The ground underneath her feet shifted once more; Miranda very much unsure of _this_ Andrea, certain of only one thing – there was something she was missing. As she dealt with almost everything in life, she confronted it head on. "What is all this for?"

"The most excellent and divine counsel, the best and most profitable advertisement of all others, but the least practiced, is to study and learn how to know ourselves. This is the foundation of wisdom and the path to whatever is good." Andrea stopped, her smile fading into a more serious expression. "You were right in what you said that night – it _is_ an outstanding speech. Shall I continue with the rest of it?"

"No need," Miranda barely got out, choked by the memories of that occasion.

_You disappoint me again._

_I see the same silly immature child._

_We have __**so**__ much in common._

_Grow up, Andrea._

Feeling her barriers beginning to crumble, Miranda unleashed her arsenal's last weapon. "Even a mindless bird can be taught to parrot. If you'd hoped to have your memorising skills impress me, I must inform you that they've failed."

"You told me that my deeds determine us. Back then, I was too distraught to listen to your words but I've spent six long years trying to understand. Give me the opportunity to show you what I've learned. Dine with me tonight."

Andrea's timid smile and words made mockery of hers, confirming the only failure as Miranda's own – being unable to resist them. She closed her eyes, letting the silence linger for a while, unable to release the "no" quivering on her tongue.

"Take a chance, I won't disappoint you again."

The softly spoken words came from so short a distance that they were almost breathed onto Miranda's lips; enveloping and dissipating the "no" as quickly as they dissolved Miranda's thoughts. Her eyes flew open. Unsettled by this closeness, she found herself gazing into irises layered with hope, tenderness, and something else she shied away from naming.

"Tomorrow evening. Don't be late." Her own words surprised her; no doubt, more so Andrea.

The dazzling smile that followed them rivalled the sun itself, endangering her barely there resolve.

"I've work to do." Miranda's curt nod indicated her dismissal.

Andrea lightly jumped down from the desk, her foot catching the turned up corner of a rug. Nearly going flying, she recovered just in time. Instantly changing from satisfied to sheepish, she blushed and murmured hastily "Umm…tomorrow" before virtually sprinting to the door, as though the awkward moment might serve to change Miranda's mind.

Slowly gathering the papers in her lap, Miranda tossed them on the spot Andrea had occupied, her eyes immediately spying a narrow stylish box. Telling herself that it was only right to check the content so she could determine the urgency of its return, Miranda removed the lavish lid. An intricate chain rested on a cushion, the silver links trapping the rays of sunlight streaming through the window. A tiny card engraved with Miranda's name gently nestled underneath. With trembling hands she lifted it, allowing a moment's indulgence – an inhalation of its scent. Light, delicate and fragile – the essence of spring that settled on Ashadriel.

So very Andrea.

Flipping it over, already knowing the message it would carry, Miranda nevertheless indulged her curiosity.

**I know that after sixteen years even the most resilient substance may fail to stand the test of time. Consider this a new beginning. I look forward to dinner.**

The words brought out a throaty laugh, a rare instant of genuine delight. She wasn't often outmanoeuvred, but then again, there weren't that many worthy adversaries. What's more, this loss didn't carry the acrimony of defeat, only the welcome sweetness of a victory.

Well, dinner would certainly be an interesting affair.

Unsnapping the clasp of the meticulously hidden pendant's chain, she questioned Andrea's knowledge that she'd always worn it; at once concerned about what other secrets might not be quite so secret after all.

* * *

That memory always brought more than a hint of bitter sweetness, swung her thoughts to the events that followed shortly after. Glancing through the tinted window of the car, she saw that they were roughly fifteen minutes out from the townhouse and rubbed her temples tiredly. The dull throb of a headache served a reminder that she still hadn't told Emily to arrange the doctor's appointment that she should've made a week ago, when the pain had started its incessant pounding. Grabbing two painkillers from her purse, she gulped them down dry while trying to settle more comfortably, allowing her mind to recollect a far more pleasant occasion of headache remedy.

It had taken Andrea three long months to wear her down, many an evening of lively and spirited discussion eating into the night, her work, and other duties Miranda knew that she should not forsake. When inevitably she'd succumbed to Andrea's charms, it'd proved itself an unmitigated disaster – Miranda's guard only lowered by intoxication, Andrea too much of a novice to know what to do. The next morning she'd expected recriminations, instead receiving a contrite confession; Andrea admitting itwas the one thing she'd refused to read about, convinced no prose ought to dictate how it'd be for_ them_. For once, Miranda found this naïveté endearing, Andrea's fetching blush and affectionate touches quickly leading down a far less _tender_ path.

In the aftermath, while they lay panting side by side, Andrea had grinned and promised that she'd read every blasted book from cover to cover so as to return the favour with equal skill. Miranda opened her mouth to say that wasn't necessary, that this one-off was a mistake never to occur again. Instead, bewildered by her own words, she'd pronounced how much easier one learned through first hand demonstration (the emphasis on _hand_ had caused that fetching blush again) and that, as in all important things, practice made perfect. The blush turned into hope so painfully earnest that it became something tangible – a living breathing presence inside the room. Suffused in it, she told herself that akin to chicken pox, exposure to it would render her immune; to Andrea too.

A month of _practice_ made her understand she'd been mistaken – this wasn't a virus to develop immunity against but an intoxicating drug now constantly and sorely craved. Appalled at such an inexplicable weakness, she'd avoided Andrea completely for a week; this abstinence leading to a rather painful end – Miranda's lapse in concentration (Andrea's fetching red riding jacket the culprit) causing her to be unseated from her horse. That night, while she lay cursing her throbbing aches and pains (amongst many other things), Andrea slipped in quietly to settle on the corner of the bed, her hands hesitantly cupping Miranda's own.

Pain made her gruff. "You shouldn't be here, someone might see you."

"You're right, someone _might_ see me. Just as I'm sure they saw my mother here earlier. Was she simply enquiring after your health or shall I make the assumption that everyone that visits you is sharing your bed?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Rolling her eyes produced a wince, Miranda forgetting that even such simple actions served to increase the pain in her head.

"I'm not the one being ridiculous. Laurence tells me that you refused the aid of any servant despite his advice that you require constant care."

"I don't need someone to watch me like a helpless child."

"And if something happens, what then?" A new quality entered Andrea's voice, something Miranda couldn't decipher, limited as she was by the darkness of both room and mind.

"Well then, they can write an epitaph attesting to the dangers of moving animals and careless women," Miranda bit out in irritation, not giving any thought to her statement's interpretation.

The sharp intake of breath above her was the only sound for a while.

When Andrea finally broached the silence her broken tone was evidence enough, however, added to that was the splash of liquid on Miranda's skin, certain proof of why the younger woman sounded different. "Do you really care so little? Isn't one impending loss enough for me?"

Guilt surfaced quickly, a feeling she'd never liked. "I'm not going to die, Andrea. There's no call for tears." She barely remembered to soften the tone of her voice.

"Oh please, as if being at death's door is the only requisite for shedding tears over your actions." This time bitterness dripped from Andrea's words.

"Andrea," uncomfortable with this turn in conversation, Miranda tried to formulate an answer to dissuade it. "If this is about the past week…"

"The lack of sex? No." A scoff, "I am not you." The liquid splashed faster now. "Your rejection of me? I've had many years to get used to that."

Feeling the mattress shift, Miranda knew Andrea must've reclined herself beside her. Fingers started to trace Miranda's face, gentle caresses without thought or pattern that seemed to seek only physical reassurance. Feather light kisses followed, soothing aches and pains far better than any medication. Each one brought Miranda pleasure yet also something else – discomfort. For something tight unfurled so slowly inside her chest – a thing that had always remained hidden, even from Miranda herself. It radiated warmth, spreading tingles through her body, causing Miranda to utter what she'd been prepared to never say again. "You can spend the night." Having graciously allowed this, she unceremoniously pulled Andrea down to fully lie beside her. "We can discuss things in the morning."

The crush of the ensuing embrace robbed Miranda of her breath, her aching body protesting more abuse. For once she held back pithy comments, knowing the insensitivity of her earlier words merited some retribution. She resolved to pick her words more carefully, remember how easily she wielded the power to wound, and as if that realisation was what was needed to bring peace, she found herself drifting off to sleep. The oncoming blanket of fog didn't stop her hearing Andrea's whispered declaration but Miranda's consciousness was too submerged to comprehend it. Whatever it was, the spot in her chest pulsed warmer still, the tingles magnified and a smile settled on her lips; Miranda fully succumbing to sleep before she could wonder what had put it there.

* * *

"We're here, Ms Priestly." Roy's quiet words reverberated in her head like gunfire, instantly putting an end to all the reminiscing. Miranda resolved to put a call through to the CEO of the pharmaceutical company so she could blast him personally for his useless medication. The throbbing pain had her reach for her cell as she exited the car, but to make a very different call – one cancelling this coming confrontation. Her fingers hovered over the number pad, eventually flipping the phone closed as she decided that this'd already been put off for far too long. Just the mere thought of yet another divorce sent a shaft of pain lancing through her head, this one making her stumble slightly.

"Ms Priestly?" Roy's concern, while entirely unwelcome (which he very well knew), indicated that she probably looked far worse than she felt.

"I'm fine, be here in ninety minutes." Snapping out instructions, she mounted the stairs not checking to see if, or how, her message was received.

The minute she entered the house she caught the dazzling light coming from the living room out of the corner of her eye, first thought being that nothing in that room should reflect sunshine so brightly. Her second thought, almost instantly behind the first, was that there had been no sunlight outside mere seconds ago. Immediately on guard she turned towards the room, making it halfway before the wave of pain struck again, her head feeling as if it was about to be cleaved in two. Clutching at a nearby table she rode it out, meanwhile hearing the sounds of voices – recognising the girls – the very same girls that were supposed to be in school. Mentally adding one more to the list of speeches to dispense that day, she wondered silently what deity she'd recently pissed off that every situation served to compound itself by something else.

Upon entering the room, all words instantly vanished, the coldness robbing her of thought and breath. Her first glance noted only white, her mind at once absorbing it as something that did not belong. The second sweep landed on her children, taking in familiar stances: Caroline – defiant, Cassidy – placating; both unhurt. A tiny part of her relaxed, reassured by this most important detail.

The next flash of pain was the strongest yet, skewering her head with power and accuracy; and with no object for support she crashed down to her knees. Black spots danced across her vision even as she assumed that she could've only passed out right into a nightmare given her legs felt ice instead of floor.

"Mum!" The twin shouts indicated otherwise.

Her head was a dead weight; even so she lifted it just high enough to bring her eyesight level with a bookshelf that stood against the wall just opposite. She watched bewildered as icy tendrils claimed it from the bottom, climbing up to entomb it in their cold embrace.

"G-g-g-e-e-t out…" She moaned through clenched teeth; the combination of pain, chill and shock making her stammer badly, lips refusing to co-operate and warn her children.

_My my…now is that any way to greet a dear old friend?_

Recognition was instant, the voice that echoed inside her head forever etched into her mind. "W-w-h-ha-at are you doing here?"

"Umm, well, you see…" Hearing Cassidy stumble an answer made her realise habit had made her speak out loud.

_You know precisely well why I'm here._

She struggled to her feet, refusing to face what would come next down on her knees.

_And what I am here for._

The agonising pain was constant now, its rolling waves blinding her, clouding her mind. She felt the twins supporting her, having come rushing to her side. Clutching at them like a lifeline, she desperately wanted to believe that physically holding them would stave off the inevitable. "You c-can't h-have t-them…you p-promised…two hundred and forty years…" Her voice was just a reedy whisper now, the vice grip of the headache leeching any strength away.

She felt the presence now, a near hidden force. It wound around her ankles, rising higher with each circle of her body. Her skin felt clammy, too tight, any second threatening to tear apart.

Twelve years – she had forgotten how much this hurt.

_I kept my side of the bargain, now deliver yours._

"Mum, what's wrong?" "Mum…I'm scared." "What's happening?" The twins' anxiety tumbled out in questions which tripped over one another.

She wanted to weep, tell them how much she loved them, confess she'd never thought that they'd live long enough to see this day. She should've told them what she'd done, prepared them, begged on her knees for their forgiveness. It was too late now – the rising presence crushing her chest a steel band which compressed her lungs. With her last breath she exhaled scornfully, defiant to the last, "Should've known not to trust you."

The laughter rose up around her, ricocheting across the room. For a split second the pressure eased, the veil of darkness lifting from her mind. Encountering the expanse of white which now ensconced nearly the entire room, she suddenly found herself – in shock – meeting the impassive gaze of the one in front of her. She looked for what appeared to be forever, searching for a speck of warmth, crumb of concern, fragment of kindness – anything that madeAndrea who she was. The expression in those eyes never faltered for a second, remaining as arctic as the chill that filled the room.

_Why, I am as honest as you are._

The pressure following the mocking words was twofold, Miranda grateful in the knowledge that at least this would be over quickly. As she slipped into the welcome darkness, the final words ringing through her mind were a death knell.

_Time to pay the price._


	13. Chapter 11

PART TWO

Chapter 11

* * *

**"While we are free to choose our actions, we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions." – **Stephen R. Covey

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Just over 240 years ago – Andrea's 25****th**** Birthday**

"…can't condone this…completely unacceptable…"

Elnora half-heartedly listened to Isabella's reprimand, focused as she was on using this chance to set the first phase of her plan in motion. Her pet's bloodthirsty actions were unexpected (at least today) but simply served to speed up her timeline by several hours, allowing this meeting to take place earlier than she'd anticipated.

As Isabella continued talking, Elnora observed the fine sheen of sweat on the monarch's forehead, the tremble of the hand she tried to hide. Had she not paid handsomely to be kept informed of what went on within these walls, she might have chalked this up to overexcitement, perhaps too much exertion from planning another banquet. Knowing the truth of things she wanted to feel pity; given the situation any decent human being should. Instead all she was able to feel was fear – that one day a fate as this could, too, befall her; that she might face a slow and torturous death.

"…actions befitting a queen…"

Her ears picked the perfect spot. "Of course, Isabella, you're right. It is _my_ turn to issue an apology for _my_ actions." Inclining her head in mock subservience, she waited for the reaction she knew the emphasis would elicit.

Not disappointing her, Isabella instantly picked up on the meaning behind Elnora's words. "I was under the impression we settled that other matter some time ago?" Her query held a trace of puzzlement.

"We did. I bear no grudge against you." Elnora projected her most benign smile. _The same cannot be said of your daughter_, she added silently. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

The White Queen raised an eyebrow in question.

"You've always instructed on decorum and propriety, yet those closest to you forsake those very things. I would have never taken you for a hypocrite, Isabella."

The White Queen's features morphed into an inscrutable facade. "Speak plainly, Elnora, I've never cared for riddles."

"Surely you understand it's not my place to gossip."

"If you had no intention of elaborating on your statement," Isabella's tone bordered on cold, "then you should've taken care not to say anything at all."

"It's just…I know how painful humiliation can be." Elnora paused, dangling the bait of her own experience, "How it can ruin a reputation. I would hate to see Andrea go through that."

Isabella's tone chilled even further, "What is it that you _think_ you know?"

Elnora stepped closer, "Not I, but everyone. She flaunts her dalliance out in the open, never once questioning the intent of the other party."

"And what may that be?"

Having caught the fish, she gently reeled it in. "What we all desire – power. Surely even you don't question the temptation of realm rule?"

Unwittingly Isabella's tone wavered in hesitation, "Andrea would see through that," before confidence fully returned, "So would I. My advisors watch her closely, no-one like that would be allowed into her life."

"And tell me, Isabella, who watches _them_?"

The mask slipped temporarily, a shadow flickering across the White Queen's eyes. That was all the confirmation Elnora required, all that she would likely get.

_Perfect_.

"That is," the White Queen lapsed into a thoughtful silence before continuing, "a grave accusation. I hope you understand what I must ask – can you offer any proof?"

Rolling her eyes Elnora retorted, "What proof would you have me get? Love letters? A portrait of them sharing a bed? Look into her eyes – you are her mother – that will be all the proof you need. As for her lover's intentions --"

Isabella cut her off, "I will deal with that. If what you say is true, I owe you a great debt, one that I hope to repay someday."

"Do not concern yourself, something tells me reparation will be…forthcoming." Elnora's triumphant smile was hidden by her turn towards the door. "I must get back to the celebrations before we're missed. I'm sure there's much that you need to consider."

"Undoubtedly. Please, allow me to request a favour. Do not let anyone know what has passed here right now. Especially --" She trailed off, knowing Elnora didn't need completion of that thought.

"Count on it. I wouldn't dream of doing anything to ruin this night."

_One down_.

Smirking, she exited the room, armed with the knowledge that so far everything was going according to her plan.

"Tell me, where do you see yourself in ten years time, Miranda?" Strolling through the grounds of the castle, Elnora

* * *

intently watched the face of the woman walking alongside her.

"Well, I'd like to think alive, your majesty."

"Deflected like a legislator." A smile settled on Elnora's lips. "I was privy to your talent seven years ago and I've heard a great deal more about you since. Your reputation precedes you, counsellor."

"It is an honour to have you think so."

"Come now, the opinion isn't mine alone. I know you must have countless offers for your services, from every high ranked nobleman and woman within the realm. So tell me, when Andrea comes to power, will you still willingly stand at her side?"

"If that is what she wishes."

"Will you be happy?"

Surprise at the line of enquiry flared in Miranda's eyes, "I'm not sure I understand the question."

"Intellectually she isn't your superior, let us be honest, she's not even your equal. Would you devote your life in servitude of one so far beneath you?"

Something else flashed through Miranda's eyes, an emotion far less pleasant – skilfully concealed. Her face transformed into consistency of marble. "I don't believe it is appropriate to discuss the future queen." The response was dangerously quiet, the unspoken warning not.

_Very good_.

Her sources, and powers of observation, may have already yielded the truth but a successful schemer never failed to triple check. "Of course, I overstep my bounds, I apologise. It's just…" Elnora paused, summoning a mist of tears, "Well…as you know I cannot have a child."

"I had heard, your majesty, and I'm truly sorry for your loss." Miranda's tone carried no trace of insincerity.

Swallowing real bitterness, Elnora continued, "With that in mind, it's high time I chose a successor. Someone I trust…" the implication hung in the air between them. "I see a great deal of myself in you, Miranda. You're sharp, capable and ambitious; you do not hesitate with your decisions. You deserve more than…" She swept her hand in the direction of the castle walls, "this."

_More than __**her**__._

"I am flattered, your majesty, but --"

"Think on it. You never know when fortune may choose to cast its eye elsewhere." Inclining her head, Elnora bestowed her most dazzling smile, "Come speak to me before I leave."

Receiving a nod and an appropriate departing salutation, she strolled towards the castle doors.

_Two down_.

And early enough that she would even get the opportunity to enjoy dessert.

* * *

Two hours later, a pale Miranda approached her tentatively. The once tough marble was now fragile eggshell; skin tightly stretched over a face one word from cracking.

_Excellent_.

Clearly things had gone even better than she'd planned.

"May I have a word with you, your majesty?"

Elnora indicated her assent, Miranda slipping into the understandably empty chair next to her. At close quarters anguish shone in Miranda's eyes, pained emotion even the stoic advisor was unable to conceal. Triumph welled up within her, heating Elnora's blood. If this was the state of the ice cool Counsellor Priestly, she couldn't wait to see what that little upstart looked like. The picturesque possibilities flitted through her mind, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

"About earlier --"

"Yes?" Elnora didn't suppress her gloating smile, wasn't sure she was capable of it.

"I. Have. Reconsidered." The normally smooth tone was jerky, as if the words were dragged out against Miranda's will.

"I'm glad to hear it. Of course now is not the time or place to discuss these things. Sit a spell, enjoy some food, I've barely seen you in your chair all night." Watching Miranda visibly shudder at her statement, she idly wondered if the food or the transpired events inspired such a strong reaction.

_Three down_.

This one was just an added windfall, one she'd been most uncertain she'd be able to secure. After all, Miranda's answer was irrelevant, but still -- Disappointing how easy it had been. She rued she couldn't have been present for the undeniably delicious conversations that'd taken place. Pity also that she'd needed to drag the counsellor into this matter, but nonetheless, a timely priceless lesson for the official on being more _particular_ about her allegiances, something one had to learn at one time or another.

Glancing toward the top of the lavish table, she noted the absence of both the queen and daughter. Another hour, maybe two, and then she'd finally mete out her overdue revenge.

As it turned out it had stretched to three, and when Andrea eventually rejoined the celebrations, even from a distance, Elnora could see the sallow ashen colour of her skin. Her pallor nearly matched her dress, all motion utterly erratic. Not sitting so much as collapsing into the chair, she was a marionette whose strings had been abruptly cut.

Glancing to her left, she saw Miranda pinch her lips and frown, concern overlaying the anguish in her eyes. She tried to rise but then as if remembering what happened earlier she sat back down heavily, eyes lowered to her plate in resignation.

_It's time._

The Black Queen rose, approaching Andrea slowly.

The closer she got, the more she scowled on the inside. The girl's very demeanour spoke of some great and never-ending grief, the theatrics sitting sourly with Elnora. She wanted to roll her eyes and tell the girl to snap out of it, deal with this like an adult getting just deserts. If little things like an ended dalliance caused this reaction, Andrea's rule would be spent crying into her pillow.

"Your highness, may I enquire as to your mother's whereabouts?"

There was no response.

Silently fuming at yet another slight, she tried again, "Your highness, I have an announcement to make, something your mother should be present for."

When eventually Andrea's eyes lifted to meet her own, Elnora physically recoiled – the torment and suffering in them so strong it was as if the feelings reached out, willing to cling to anything around them; aware that such a fragile vessel as one body couldn't possibly contain their force.

For the first time a tendril of unexpected feeling tightened Elnora's belly, one closely resembling apprehension.

_Remember what she did_.

The words wound through her head – a timely reminder of the last piece of the puzzle which completed her elaborate plan.

"S-s-he w-wont b-be j-joining u-us. I-I n-need t-to…t-tell…" Andrea was unable to complete her sentence, tears seeping out to roll down her face.

Again Elnora hesitated, the stammered barely uttered words causing a frisson of alarm. With her keen instincts came recognition of things amiss, perhaps events that she had not considered. Within her mind light began to war with darkness, her conscience knowing right from wrong. Even as she almost turned away, further down the table laughter startled her, instantly catapulting her to the memory of that night.

_You may never get this chance again_.

The darkness won and ignoring all instinct, she ruthlessly suppressed any unease at the sight that faced her. Picking up a glass, she clunked a spoon against it, waiting for the hush to fall across the hall. "We all know why we are gathered here today. First, I'd like to propose a toast – to Her Highness – may you celebrate many more birthdays to come, each one as _memorable _as the one today."

Her emphasis was lost on all but one.

While the rest of the room raised their cups in cheer, the stare from down the table skewered her with force. Raising her glass, she took a sip of wine and continued, "But the day's not over yet. There's something else that I would like to honour – fidelity."

Finally connecting with the blue that bore right through her, she read the message clearly – 'don't do this'. She sent a smirk as wordless confirmation it was her intention to continue. "Counsellor Priestly approached me earlier tonight. She has graciously offered to step into the role of my advisor, my protégée, my successor." Pausing, she let the meaning of the words sink in.

Silence descended on the room, this time no cheer marking her announcement. In that silence, the broken gasp couldn't have been more obvious – heard plainly by them all. Numerous eyes drew to the princess, Elnora's included. Outwardly the Black Queen took care to remain composed but inside even she blanched at the expression on Andrea's face – all remaining semblance of colour was gone, the white so stark that for an instant Elnora wondered how close the girl was to complete collapse. In the next instant, scraping back her chair as she tried to rise, Andrea whispered, "Y-you c-can't…y-you c-can't l-leave m-me…n-not…" only to fall back down abruptly, strength abandoning her.

Elnora's gaze drew to Miranda's once again. The redhead's face remained outwardly cold, the only change lips pinched into a tighter line than before, blending almost entirely with her face. Her eyes, however, shot daggers of fury; wrath that promised certain retribution. Overlapping that fury, even stronger, was agony – the torture of one impotent to do the thing most craved – go to the one she loved.

Exultant smile on her lips, Elnora turned the knife.

"She won't. I have considered the Counsellor's offer most carefully but I'm afraid," she paused drawing out her satisfaction, "she is mistaken in her belief that her services are required. Perhaps in the future, Counsellor Priestly will be more careful about making assumptions," she stopped again, making sure her underlying meaning sunk in, "about _where_ her loyalties should lie."

Her plan fulfilled, her eyes swept the entire room. The whispers started almost instantly – quiet at first, rising in volume as more and more people joined in. It wasn't long until the room was a disharmony of sound.

Before departing, she spared a lingering glance only for two.

Back ramrod straight even completely crushed, Miranda showed her she refused to buckle. Her eyes had lost their fury, replaced by a hood of blankness. Mouth twisting sardonically as she met Elnora's gaze, Miranda gave an imperceptible nod, a silent applause for a game well played.

Slumped within the confines of her chair, Andrea sat as broken as any person still alive. Unaware of her surroundings, she gazed toward some far away spot, tears continuing their trickle down her face. Her eyes had glazed over in shock, just cloudy pools of sheer distress.

Walking away, each breath should've brought with it the tang of victory, and yet the further she moved, the more she could only taste defeat; a chill of foreboding quietly settling in the pit of Elnora's stomach.


	14. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

"**Those things that hurt, instruct."** – Benjamin Franklin

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Present time**

"Who are you?" The voice was cold but held a hint of curiosity.

Caroline jumped guiltily and spun around, her shoulder catching the sculpture she'd been so busy admiring. The figurine teetered wildly; Caroline made a frantic, futile grab and the sound of ice shattering into countless fragments pierced the air around them.

"Oops." Caroline lowered her eyes, bracing herself for the expected reprimand.

"Well, I can see what you are not, and that is graceful." From anyone else the words might have been warm and teasing, from this woman – they were simply fact.

"I'm sorry," Caroline suddenly recalled her manners.

"For what?"

In front of her disbelieving eyes the pieces on the floor gravitated towards each other, knitting together to resume the shape they'd held before.

"Holy sh…" Caroline stopped herself just in time. "I mean…wow. Did you do that?" Her eyes flew up to meet the woman's gaze.

"Yes. Would you mind?" She nodded towards the sculpture.

Caroline picked it up, not able to resist running her hand along its curve to check if this had been some form of a trick. The statue appeared whole again, no evidence of any break. "Can everyone do stuff like that here?"

The woman frowned, "Here? You mean in the palace?"

"You know…here," Caroline gestured at her surroundings, "Wherever I am."

"Where do you think you are?"

"I know where I'm not," Caroline snorted, "and that's Kansas."

"Kansas?"

Caroline rolled her eyes. "It's just a joke. From the movie. You know, the Wizard of Oz?"

The woman continued to regard her blankly.

"You know the Wizard of Oz, right? Dorothy…Toto? Please tell me you have movies here, I've been waiting for the latest Harry Potter one for ages!"

"Well, I hate to disappoint you," the tone didn't match the sentiment of the words, "but I am guessing you'll have to wait a little longer than you thought."

Caroline sighed gloomily. "Figures…" she mumbled under breath.

"You still haven't told me who you are." The woman's tone remained neutral but firm.

"I'm Caroline, Caro for short." she hesitated then boldly plunged ahead, "Who are you?"

"That's immaterial to this conversation."

For some reason the sharp dismissal stung, reminiscent as it was of her mother's parties where the adults around Caroline couldn't have made it any clearer that her opinion was surplus to requirements.

"And where are you from?"

"Washington, of course."

"Washington?" The cold eyes registered surprise. "Is that in the Outer Lands? I've never heard of it before."

Now it was Caroline's turn to regard her blankly. "Outer Lands? Who the hel...heck refers to America as Outer Lands? We're the greatest nation in the world. Everyone's afraid of us." She added that last bit for effect, hoping to intimidate with a subtle threat.

No fear followed, only the iciness of utter certainty, "In your world, maybe. Not in mine."

"Y-your w-world?" All of a sudden, Caroline felt scared. Subconsciously, she'd known of course, wandering through the rooms, she couldn't help but recognise how…_different_…everything was, but to have it officially confirmed made it somehow truly real.

The woman ignored her question in favour of her own, "Tell me, Caroline, why I've been seeing the two of you?"

_Her sister!_

Suddenly Caroline remembered her purpose in being in this room. "C-cassidy, I can't find her. Do you know where she is?"

"She is fine and elsewhere. I thought it best to separate you two. This way, you wouldn't have a chance to talk, and you are less likely to concoct your lies."

"I am not a liar!" Caroline bit out hotly, the common words springing easily to her lips, having been uttered so many times before.

"That remains to be seen."

"Maybe you're the liar. After all, we've seen you too."

"So you've been spying on me?" Whilst having risen in volume, the tone remained as even.

"No! Why would we? We don't know who you are!"

The gaze boring into hers reminded Caroline of their first encounter at the lake. The eyes remained as cold and yet, just as back then, she felt the same inexplicable connection to their owner. She fought the conflicting urge to turn away, shield herself from those probing eyes, yet at the same time move up close and beg this woman for…_something_.

"How did you get here?" The questioning resumed.

"I really don't know. We were in our house then the light opened up, it's done that loads of times before. Then we saw you, and then…" She swallowed convulsively, trying to choke down an onslaught of tears at the rush of memories, "then I don't know. The ice came, then something was wrong with Mum, and…" She fell silent. Hopelessness overwhelmed but she asked it anyway. "I don't suppose that she --"

Startled, she watched the woman grimace suddenly, her right hand clutching her head as if in a great deal of pain. Her left hand convulsively clutched at the back of a nearby chair. "S-s-stop." The neutral tone had turned into a commanding whisper.

Caroline frowned in confusion.

Giving scant clarification the woman spat out, "W-whatever y-you are doing…s-stop."

"Are you talking to me?" Caroline pointed to herself just to make sure there'd been no misunderstanding.

"Do you see anyone else here?" Both hands now curled into the headrest of the chair, the woman clenching her teeth in agony.

Bewildered, Caroline replied, "N-no. But I'm not doing anything. Unless…" Thinking for a second she came up with the only plausible explanation, "Do you mean…_crying_?"

"NO." The woman's voice wavered and rose higher, at last awash with feeling – pain filled irritation. "All of it. Just stop. Empty your mind. NOW!" The last command was accompanied by a tremor, the recently reformed figurine developing hairline cracks which splintered it from head to toe. In an instant, the ice disintegrated, smashing to the floor again.

"S-sorry." She tried to do as the woman asked but years of rebelling against authority made her mind instinctively perform the opposite; no matter how much she tried to quell them, the thoughts only tumbled out faster. All she could think about was her mother gasping for breath, collapsing to the floor, so utterly still; Cassidy scared, crying, begging her to wake up; the chilling laughter all around them, coming from nowhere; the blank eyes staring at them from across the room…

…the same blank eyes that shone their pain and fury now.

"I. Said. STOP." The voice thundered around her, the tremors increasing in force.

A split second later, she saw the chunk of ice hurtling towards her head, noting its path too late to duck out of its way.

She had a second to think_ oh, this is gonna hurt like hell._

Then everything went black.

* * *

"Mum!" Cassidy shot up, her eyes encountering only the darkness of a room.

_It's just a dream_.

She fumbled for the light switch, her hands encountering only empty air where the night lamp should have stood. Frowning, she tried to remember if she'd recently feng-shuied her room again but couldn't remember having done that for a while. Letting her legs dangle off the bed, she jumped down lightly onto the carpet, her feet appreciating the fur that greeted them instead.

_Hang on, I don't have furs_.

Even more puzzled, she wondered what trick Caroline was playing on her now. Determinedly, she felt her way to where she could see a tiny sliver of light shining under what she presumed to be a door. Opening it, she stepped out into the corridor, her breath stilling as she took in her surroundings.

Cobwebs covered every surface as far as the eye could see, fiercely protecting every corner, nook and cranny. The walls showed signs of disrepair; the once white marble dirty and faded, cracks forming from floor to ceiling, a thick film of dust overlaying it all. Here and there rectangle patches shone more pale, Cassidy assuming that pictures must have hung there some time ago.

"Hello?" The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, the threadbare carpet affording little cushion for her tread. "Is anyone there?"

Her voice echoed down the narrow corridor, reverberating back towards her.

_Creepy_.

"Caro? This isn't funny, you know!"

It was easier to keep thinking this was another prank her sister had cooked up, some sort of joke that they would laugh about later. The alternative didn't bear thinking about; in fact, until she absolutely had to, she refused to give it any thought. Continuing her wander she found more doors, opening each one in turn, finding all of them unlocked. Every room yielded only the hallway's dereliction – more cobwebs, dust and mould.

_Who'd choose to live like this?_

She tried to imagine allowing such a stately place to fall into massive disrepair, and suddenly the creepy didn't feel so creepy, more just…sad. Remembering David teaching her not to judge books by their cover, she resolved not to form an opinion of anyone who lived here until she got a chance to meet them face to face.

The final door in the corridor loomed up ahead, more solid and ornate than the rest combined. Cassidy tentatively pushed it open, the old wood groaning loudly in effort. Stepping into an enormous hall, she saw that it was some form of a dining room, several large tables occupying its middle. At the top of the biggest table sat a woman, her solitary figure dwarfed by the grandeur of the room.

"H-hello…" Cassidy tentatively approached her, uncertain of the reception that she'd get. "Can you help me? I am looking --" Recognition was instant, the face etched into as many conscious moments as dreams. "I -- it's you!"

The woman ignored her startled exclamation. "I know who you are looking for. Caroline's fine. Please sit down. Eat." The woman indicated the seat beside her, in front of which sat a bowl emitting gently rising wisps of steam.

Cassidy realised she was ravenous as fast as she recognised that this woman could be lying. She paused, biting her lower lip in hesitation, as she was wont to do when faced with tricky choices.

The woman laughed, or at least thought she did. The truth was the sound was so hoarse and rusty that it was clear the woman hadn't practiced it in a very long time. "Very smart, I'd be wary too. But I promise you, I mean no harm. I only want to know where it is you come from and more importantly, why you are here."

Cassidy's stomach chose that moment to growl. Smiling sheepishly, she slid into the seat. Absolutely starving she chose to try her luck and spooning the soup into her mouth, she ended up grunting appreciation, "Mmm, this is good."

"Thank you. I made it myself. I realised you might be hungry." Once again the stilted tone proved its owner to be unused to both company and conversation.

"MmmIwasCanIseemysister?" Cassidy stumbled over the words so quickly that soup dribbled down her chin. Flushing in embarrassment, she looked up waiting to see disgust but was met only with the same cold and appraising look the woman had worn in each of their encounters.

"In due course, finish your meal. I can't have you fading away to nothing."

Just like the laughter, the kind and caring tone missed its target by some margin, ending up somewhere around 'warmer than the Antarctic'. As though coming to the same realisation, the woman gave a pained grimace. "You must forgive me. It's been too long since I have entertained…_guests_."

Something rung false about this explanation, not the actual reason; Cassidy could guess its truth just from the state of the place alone. But there was something more, a deeper dimension than the surface which the explanation scratched. Cassidy decided that she'd figure things out by asking the most pressing thing on her mind, "Who are you? We've been seeing you for ages."

"I'm the White Queen, ruler of this kingdom. Tell me, how old are you?"

"Twelve. I'll be thirteen soon. Kingdom? But there aren't really kingdoms back home. Well, technically there's the United Kingdom and then --"

"Yes, yes." The woman halted Cassidy's speech by raising her hand. "I've already been through this with your sister. I don't know where you come from but it isn't here. What I am trying to find out is how you are here at all and why you seem to be able to --" Appearing to censor herself, the sovereign fell silent.

"All I can remember is --" Cassidy whispered, glancing away to hide the tears that pricked her eyes as her mind started to play a kaleidoscope of the events that happened earlier.

"Stop." The woman's razor sharp voice instantly made Cassidy frown in dismay. "Your mother is --" There was a slight hesitation, "She's also fine, in fact, resting comfortably. You can see her after you've stopped in to see your sister."

At once Cassidy was flooded by relief, a huge weight lifting off her shoulders. Her mother would know exactly what to do. She beamed her joy, a smile bright enough to light up the entire room, "Truly? You promise? Gosh, I was so worried because she was really still and for a second there I thought that --"

The groan effectively cut through her chatter, Cassidy noting the woman now appeared in utter agony.

"A-are y-you okay?" Cassidy hesitated but reached out a hand to pat her arm, hoping that unlike her mother this woman didn't mind being touched by strangers.

"Why can't either of you do as I ask?" The exclamation came through gritted teeth.

Confused, Cassidy tried to ask her what she meant, wanting to know exactly when she'd failed to do something requested of her. "Um…I don't know…what you mean…" All of a sudden her tongue felt thick, her head woozy and stuffed with wool, legs proving uncooperative when she tried to rise.

Coming from far away, the mutter held scorn and irritation. "Your lack of control is utterly appalling. I can't be near either of you when you're like this. Just as well I thought to drug your soup."

Seconds later Cassidy slumped down on the table.

* * *

Standing on the parapet, Andrea allowed the breeze to gently ruffle both her hair and snow. Uncontrolled, the snowflakes eddied around her, swirling without a purpose, like her mind. Lost as she was in thought, she didn't sense_ it_ until it crept up next to her.

Its voice echoed through her mind.

_The time has come_.

"Where is she?"

_In Kaledran with Elnora_.

"You promised me twelve years, it's been centuries."

_Depends on __**where **__it is__ that one's been counting._

"So then you lied to me."

_No, only twelve have passed for her._

"How clever. I should be angry at your trick but there's something you did not foresee. Whatever resentment and pain I felt is gone, she's nothing now beyond a name I barely recall. I have no need to concern myself with her."

_Don't be so sure_.

The White Queen stilled. "Explain. Be mindful to say exactly what you mean."

_She took more than you think that night__, more than just your heart…_

"I had nothing else to give. And the only reason to meet her is to thank her for the gift she gave me in its place."

_Ah, the gift of life, precious indeed._

"What are you referring to?"

_How old would you say those children are?_

"I…They're twelve, almost…I fail to see how any of this is relevant."

_Really, must I piece everything together for you?_

She scrolled through the encounters with the girls, each moment examined and catalogued within her mind. A tremor of shock shook her entire frame as understanding finally dawned. The wind suddenly howled, snowflakes grew in density; whipping around them both with increasing speed. "What you're implying is impossible."

The silent whisper mocked and taunted.

_Of course, as impossible as living without a heart. _

"How?"

_I give what is requested of me._

"So they're mine?" Disbelief still coloured her voice.

_Yes, they're a part of you -- a part that makes you…feel._

Gazing off into the distance, she quietly let her mind absorb the newfound knowledge that changed…well…frankly everything. "How long do I have left?"

_Almost three days, till the turning of the moon._

She nodded and waved her hand in abrupt dismissal, not wanting it to linger. The creature shimmered, partially fading from sight before it bestowed its parting words.

_Oh, and Andrea? You know what must be done._


	15. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * *

**"Consequences are unpitying. Our deeds carry their terrible consequences, quite apart from any fluctuations that went before--consequences that are hardly ever confined to ourselves." **– George Eliot

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Just over 240 years ago – Andrea's 25****th**** Birthday**

"How long have you been with me now, Miranda?" The inflexible tone was at odds with the queen's pale perspiring countenance.

"Almost eighteen years, your majesty."

"And how would you say I've treated you during that time?"

Unease curled through Miranda, certain as she was that Ashadriel's monarch would not have chosen a private meeting in her chambers as a setting for pointless reminiscing. "Exceptionally well, your majesty. It would be fair to say you've made me everything I am. There's much I owe you."

"Mmm…debt. That certainly does seem to be this evening's theme of choice."

As Isabella moved closer, Miranda bit her tongue to stop herself from telling her she really ought to sit down. The queen had never looked worse; upon careful examination, the pronounced black circles under her eyes a testament to the failure of even most skilful servants to disguise the monarch's declining health.

"Tell me, what would you consider to be a fitting way to repay that debt?"

Miranda maintained her cool façade even as her anxiety ratcheted a notch. "Is there something her majesty has in mind?"

Each bit out word bristled with hostility. "Oh I don't know -- honour, loyalty, trust."

"I've never given cause for you to doubt me."

"Really? I'd say we're about to find out." With those words, the queen came to stand directly opposite Miranda, so close their bodies almost touched. Inwardly flinching at the proximity, Miranda ruthlessly controlled her outward reaction to ensure no trace of aversion to such nearness shone on her face. Never mind to an opponent, she would not reveal such weakness even to an ally.

"So, is it _true_?" The question was accompanied by a penetrating stare.

Instead of baffling, the lack of detail merely served to erase all doubt. Only one issue would merit a lack of explanation.

Anxiety morphed into outright fear, the knowledge that this conversation was to be now hardening into a lump which pressed uncomfortably on her stomach. No matter how careful they'd been, somehow Isabella had learned the truth. Logically, Miranda had always known this day would come and yet now that the day was here, for once, she felt peculiarly unprepared. The urge for dishonesty rising within her, she opened her mouth to lie – conjured up every hour, minute, second; thought about every shared look and touch; brought each one to the forefront of her mind, assembling a shield of Andrea, hoping against hope it would be enough.

Her principles tore through it like it wasn't there.

"Yes," she heard herself say out loud, even as silently she cursed it all – the situation, her blasted words, her stupid integrity and pride.

"Thank you." Isabella exhaled deeply, looking very much the elderly woman that she was, every wrinkle thrown into stark relief. "Somehow, I always imagined that you would not lie to my face. Even though," for a moment her voice turned low and wistful, becoming just a melancholy whisper "given the current situation, I almost wish you had."

In the next instant she shook her head as if to clear it and took a step back, steel once again her core. "Your honesty stands you well, Miranda, it always has done. For this, if nothing else, I'll be more lenient than I should."

"Your majesty," Miranda whispered, quite lost for words to gain an advantage. "I --"

"Silence! Unquestionably, you've said and done enough. Leave."

"Of course," Miranda bowed, "when you have come to a decision…"

The queen sardonic laughter cut across her speech. "No, you conveniently misunderstand."

Miranda hesitated.

"I mean _leave_. Tonight. My employ, my kingdom," the queen's tone chilled to ice, "My daughter."

"No. You can't." The swiftly spreading numbness at this unyielding punishment allowed merely the most base of speech to pass Miranda's lips. Dispassionately, she observed that years of practice made her voice sound as cool and calm as if she'd just enquired about the weather.

"I can and will do as I please." Fury flashed in Isabella's eyes. "What it is that stuns you so, Miranda? What exactly did you expect? That I would welcome you with open arms? Place the crown on your head and give you both my blessing? Tell me, were you to stand here in my place, is there really another course of action _you_ would take?"

Miranda chose to remain silent, aware the question had been rhetorical.

"All these years I've trusted you, shared my every confidence, loved you like…" the queen stopped herself from finishing that thought. Sorrow battled with anger in her voice. "And this is how you've chosen to repay me."

_I didn't plan to fall in love_.

The rebuttal was instant and yet Miranda held her tongue. She wouldn't beg and plead for the opportunity to explain, nor would she allow someone who wasn't the recipient of this declaration, hear it first.

"I truly hope it was worth it." The queen pivoted on her heels.

_She was_.

As much as she might want them, Miranda had no regrets.

The thought of Andrea made her state a last request, "Your majesty, I humbly ask you sleep on this decision. I know how things appear now but in the morning you may change you mind."

She could fix this. She just needed time -- to tell Andrea how she felt, to work out a plan, to…

"Will you feel differently in the morning?" Isabella's words cut through her thoughts. "Will you wake up and change what has transpired?"

"You know that's not within my power, your majesty."

"Then perhaps you will gain a title, I'll settle for lowly baroness. Land, holdings, livestock; your talents are boundless. Will these appear overnight?" This time Miranda couldn't suppress a flinch, the mocking words hitting weaknesses well hidden. "Did you really think I wasn't aware that almost every bit of coin you earn goes towards your family's upkeep?"

Turning around so that she faced her once again, Isabella probed further. "Tell me, did you do it for them? Wealth is a powerful motivator; it's blinded many in better circumstances than you."

"You may be monarch of this land but even one as _lowly_ as I, has the right not to stand here being insulted," Miranda spat out. "Your accusation demeans us both."

"Very good," the queen clasped her hands together mockingly. "Up until an hour ago I would have believed the righteous indignation dripping from your every word just as I listened to it this very night seven years ago when you professed, so _honourably_, that you would do your duty. Where is that honour now?"

"Nothing has changed."

"You're right," Isabella whispered looking completely drained, "nothing _has_ changed and nothing will. My decision stands. Don't make things any worse, Miranda. All the wishing in the world won't change who or what you are."

Having finished, the queen stumbled towards the nearest chair, lowering herself less than gracefully into it.

"Your majesty…"

"Enough." Shakily Isabella ran a hand across her face, the tremor more pronounced than ever. "Get out, I'm done with you."

The finality of the words struck Miranda full force. She absorbed the impact, swallowing with difficulty past the growing lump stuck in her throat. "Thank you, your majesty." Despite her turmoil, she did not forget the etiquette instilled in her so long ago. "For the honour to serve you and for the lessons I learned standing at your side."

Bowing for the last time, head held high, she walked toward the door.

Unwilling to look back, she missed the veil of tears and grief in Isabella's eyes.

* * *

"You can't be serious." Andrea's anguished words momentarily made Miranda halt her packing. "I won't allow this!"

"There's nothing to allow."

"I'll speak to my mother, make her see --"

"See what?" Jerkily, Miranda dumped more clothes into her bags. "She's right. You're destined to be queen. Do you plan to steal into my bed whilst every duke and duchess in the land comes here to court you? Am I to be the toy you play with at your whim?" Sparing only a glance for the younger woman, it was long enough to witness the hurt blossom in her eyes.

"How is it that you still can't tell there's no-one else for me?"

As always, Andrea's sincerity pierced her heart, causing a bittersweet ache she'd come to associate solely with her lover. "Do not be foolish, Andrea." Miranda's voice was brusque. "An alliance through marriage will strengthen Ashadriel. At your tender age, you cannot rule alone."

"Then m-marry m-me." The uttered words were halting and unsure, the intent behind them was not.

Miranda glanced up in sheer astonishment, the declaration having stilled her hands. "A-andrea," she stuttered in shock, "surely even you can't think that'd be appropriate?"

"Why?"

"Countless reasons, above them all, I have nothing of value to offer you."

"I need but one thing, it cannot be bought." The subdued tone carried palatable sadness.

"It's not that simple," Miranda sighed, again ruing that she'd never been able to make Andrea see this. Having resisted the urge for long enough, she cupped her lover's cheek, brushing its smoothness with her thumb, another shaft of pain scoring her heart as soft lips ghosted over her fingers.

"I am in love you. Ought it to be more difficult than that?"

Allowing the sentiment to warm her heart, Miranda marvelled at Andrea's innate ability to pick entirely the wrong time to declare something wholly right. Wanting to savour it for just a moment she let the silence linger, absorbing the truth demonstrated through every action, yet never spoken out loud.

Taking the meaning of the silence as something else, Andrea's next words were even quieter. "I didn't mean to tell you. I know it's not something you want to hear, that for you it's just --"

"It's not, it's more than that. _You_'re more than that."

A frown marred Andrea's face. "Then I don't understand."

Miranda sighed. "We can't be together, you and I, not as we are. But tonight an opportunity presents itself. I have…a plan. Granted, it might be years until --"

"Years?"

"Have patience, Andrea."

"How often will I see you?" Utter desolation translated through the reedy whisper.

"I don't know. It will depend on many things. Initially, it might be several moons, then as I progress --"

Again Miranda was interrupted, this time by a tone far more firm. "I cannot wait that long. I won't."

Miranda stiffened as irritation at this obstinacy bubbled to the surface. "There is no other choice, Andrea."

"There's always a choice."

She quietly warned, "Don't try and dictate what I can and cannot do."

"I won't. But there's an option that you've overlooked."

Miranda's puzzlement served as a prompt.

"I can come with you."

Taken aback once more, Miranda stared at Andrea blankly. "W-what?" Inside, she wondered how many more times Andrea was to reduce her to a stuttering wreck tonight.

"Wherever you plan to go, let me join you. If I can't marry you as princess nor as queen, surely I can marry you as…me."

The heartfelt sentiment both warmed and chilled Miranda. She allowed herself a flash – a momentary glimpse into what that future would comprise of – her heart pounding approval at the images which flickered through her head.

All too quickly, she brought the daydream to an end. "You would give up everything, all of this, for me?" The words were to be callous and scornful, communicating utter disbelief; instead they were simply bleak, conveying emotion truly felt within.

"I would give up more," Andrea tangled their hands together, "whatever it takes."

Unbelievably torn, Miranda turned away. It took every ounce of willpower to objectively review events that would result from this decision – the turmoil, in-fighting, panic and chaos. A quarter century of carefully nurtured plans obliterated by a purely selfish desire.

_No._

Her own happiness could not be placed above that of so many others. No love could bear the burden of such a price.

Quickly coming to a decision, she braced herself for the most important performance of her life. Schooling her features into a cold impassive mask, she made to turn around. In time she hoped Andrea would understand; that just as seven years ago, any damage done would spur her onto greater things; that she'd eventually forgive; that one day they --

Not allowing herself to finish that thought, she mentally switched gears, launching an attack far more devastating to her than to its beneficiary. "Why would I want that?" The cool derogatory tone served only to reflect the ice that formed inside.

"Because I know you want me with you." The conviction, utter certainty of those words, shone through – a beacon whose light drew Miranda in, even as she worked to douse its flame.

"All of a sudden you can read my mind?"

"Why would I need to? Your actions tell me everything that you can't say, that you will not – you need me."

"Need," Miranda sneered, all pretence surplus to requirements. "What do you know of need? You've never worked for anything in your life. Whatever your heart has ever desired was handed to you on a silver platter. You've never gone hungry, wondered where your next meal was coming from, never lay shivering in the dark as others curled round you for a blanket. So yes, Andrea, whilst I may _want_ you," her lips twisted into a cruel smirk, "please rest assured – I'll never _need_ you."

_See the necessity of what I'm forced to say_.

As if Andrea read her mind, maybe her heart, she stammered "Y-you don't m-mean that."

"No, it's just that you're not prepared to believe it. You dress things up, make them into something they're not. We happen to enjoy each other's company, share a mutual attraction – you label that as love, I – simply as convenience. None of these things we share are unique, exclusive to you alone. There is only one thing that you have that I can't get elsewhere, so now enlighten me as to why I'd want you if you renounce it?"

She watched the words sink in, horror darkening the eyes in front of her until they shone almost black with unexpressed emotion. "T-that's…No…Y-you w-wouldn't…y-you c-couldn't…"

"You'd be surprised at what I can and cannot do."

_Like now_.

Her teeth clenched even harder, Miranda prayed the numbness that spread would see her through to the end of the vicious diatribe. "I knew ahead of you that Isabella was dying. Meticulous planning is my job and I excel at it. Ironic then that it was you yourself that handed me the perfect opportunity so long ago. I only had to ensure your feelings for me existed after all this time. After that, it was all so easy, oh so simple. Like you really." Clicking her tongue, she lifted Andrea's chin up condescendingly with a brush of her index finger. "Surely you didn't think I was swayed by your pretty words?" Laughing mockingly she pulled out the pendant, dangling it in front of her for emphasis, "Or this trinket that you gave me?"

The pain and torment brimming in Andrea's eyes unravelled her. So close to caving, she almost halted her cruel charade.

_I must be strong enough for both of us._

She pressed on, knowing the need for an exit was imminent if she was not to break down and confess the truth. "Oh, you _did _believe in all of this? That is unfortunate, indeed. Perhaps it's time for my final lesson then, Andrea. You asked me once why I was so afraid to feel and I did not give you my answer. Let me enlighten you in this matter now. Emotion clouds your judgement; it only serves to obscure the truth – about others around you, but most of all, about yourself. Perhaps these are words that you should bear in mind the next time you happen to be…_in love_." With that she unfastened the clasp on the piece of jewellery, carelessly tossing it onto the bed just as she threw away her heart.

Not staying to watch the devastation that she'd wrought, she fled the room, lost in the torment of cruel lies that played on a never-ending loop inside her head.


	16. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

* * *

**"The debts we owe ourselves are the hardest to pay."** – George Meredith Trollope

* * *

**Realm – Kaledran – Present Time**

"Oh good, you're awake. I had wondered if you were planning to laze here all day."

Miranda opened her bleary eyes, ready to blast whoever had the temerity to speak to her that way. The face that met her gaze was one she'd not seen for a very long time, one that she'd hoped to never see again. Alongside the vision came a licking of her face, that action being the thing that woke her in the first place.

Now she remembered why she'd never desired a cat.

As if it heard that very thought, it raked its claws across her arm. "Damn it!" Miranda cursed, pulling away immediately.

"Grimce…" Elnora's voice held both warning and amusement.

Casting Miranda a baleful glare which promised retribution, the cat jumped down to twine and purr around the Black Queen's ankles. Picked up as a reward, it nestled in Elnora's arms, proceeding to rumble its contentment.

"He doesn't seem to like you." The amusement was even more pronounced.

"I can assure you the feeling's mutual." Miranda's statement was accompanied by her chilliest stare. Unruffled, the animal proceeded to lick its paw, pausing only to settle more comfortably in Elnora's arms. "What am I doing here?"

"Well, I was hoping that you'd tell me. After you so rudely materialised out of nowhere in my throne room, the least I expect is an explanation. "

"Well, I'm so sorry to disappoint you," Miranda murmured mockingly, "because I probably know as much as you do, maybe less, given that I haven't inhabited this realm for near a dozen years."

"What happened twelve years ago?"

Resentment laced the mockery. "So eager to relive your deeds?"

The Black Queen frowned. "Should I know what you refer to?"

"Yes, I suppose destroying lives is just a daily habit. It must be hard remembering one instance among many."

"Care to enlighten me?"

Miranda stiffened. "I wouldn't give you the satisfaction."

"Well then, we appear at an impasse. If you won't tell me what I did and I can't tell you why you're here, that doesn't leave us much to go on."

"Was there a point I led you to believe there is an '_us'_?" Her words turned glacial, "You're lucky I remain civil when I look at you."

Elnora's laughter trilled across the room. "Over two centuries and still the same resilience! You've no idea how reassuring it is to know that some things never change."

"W-what did you say?" Miranda choked out in disbelief.

"Are you becoming hard of hearing? I suppose that probably goes at your age."

"Be quiet." The command sprung from her lips without hesitation. "What the hell do you mean 'two centuries'?"

Her countenance darkening, Elnora growled, "You seem to forget who you are speaking to. I've executed for lesser affronts."

The cat confirmed it with a quiet hiss.

"Yes yes, bore me with the details later." Desperation swept through her. "I am only fifty. How could you possibly have known me two centuries ago?"

This time Elnora was the one that gazed in disbelief. "Did your ability to count vanish at the same time as your hearing? I truly hope you're not one of those women pretending to be younger than they are. Really…so unbecoming. Especially", the queen looked her up and down, "at _your_ age."

"What age is that?" Miranda managed through bloodless lips.

"How should I know? I haven't seen you for over two hundred and forty years. You were…what…forty at the time…so that makes you…two hundred and eighty now…Wait, why the hell am I wasting time with this pointless conversation?" Elnora muttered in exasperation.

"T-that's impossible."

"Which part?"

"I haven't been gone much more than twelve." Suddenly Miranda was glad to be lying down, certain were she to stand her legs would not support her.

_You'll have two hundred and forty years. _The echo of that day went through her mind.

"So it was telling the truth."

"Who was telling the truth? I'm beginning to think you hit your head a little harder than I thought."

An all new thought pierced her heart with anguish. If her children had been taken, that meant… "Where is she?"

"Will you converse in riddles the entire day? Have you lost _all_ your senses? Lord knows what would've happened if this state of competence is what I would've had to work with --"

"Do not," Miranda's voice was dangerously low. "Don't _ever _speak to me about that day."

The mockery returned full force. "I see still touchy about that night. Perhaps you care to take a page out of Andrea's book. After all…she's handled it so _infinitely_ better."

"What are you talking about?" Her chest tightened, endless possibilities instantly flitting through her head. "She isn't…?" Lodged in her throat, fear stayed her tongue.

"Well, that would certainly be easier. However, no, she's fine. Actually, better than fine, she's grand; it's just the rest of us that I've to worry about." A hint of real concern underscored derision.

"What's wrong?" Miranda taunted. "Is she killing you with too much kindness?"

This time the laughter bordered on hysterical. "If only. I'd kill for a drop of that right now. You have been gone _too_ long, Miranda. A great many things are something other than what they used to be."

"Is this the part where you announce that you've changed? Do you envisage we can talk, cry it out, bury the hatchet? Perhaps we finish with a hug?" Reclining against the headboard of her bed, Miranda muttered in disdain, "Save it for someone else, I've never cared for Oprah."

"I'm tempted to add manners to the list of things that you've forgotten but somehow I think you're well aware of the consequences your insolence will bring." Elnora's laser stare was sharp enough to bore a hole. "I can only deduce, therefore, that you don't care. And that tells me the truth of things – you've nothing left to lose." Advancing, the queen continued to stroke the purring cat. "I've seen you like this once before."

Her gaze now stony, Miranda glared at the queen once more. "I can only surmise you're the one that needs her ears checked, seeing as how you continue to raise a subject not up for discussion."

A sudden smile bloomed on Elnora's face. "You know, I truly like this older you. All of that daring and boldness," she gestured at Miranda's body, "covered over by that icy cool façade." The queen eyed her speculatively, "And that white hair…I did rather like the red but it's a nice touch too, so very striking." She continued, "do you know how long it's been since anyone has dared to stand up to me? Being feared has its drawbacks. This," she gestured towards Miranda once again, "is very…refreshing." Settling on the corner of the bed, she chose to recline against the bedpost. "The slave boys, so very pretty – yes, but truly vapid. One just can't get a stimulating conversation." Rhythmically, she continued to pet the cat. "And you know, sometimes, that's really all you want." Lapsing into silence, she stared off into the distance, lost in thought.

Miranda closed her eyes, slowly counting to ten before she pinched herself. She was clearly trapped in some goddamned dream. Her headache had worsened, she'd taken too many drugs, passed out…That's probably all this was – just a fucking awful nightmare.

Nevertheless, when she re-opened her eyes, she was in the same room, Elnora observing her in alarm. "On second thought, whatever mental illness you are clearly experiencing might just be catching. I wouldn't want to risk it." Rising to stand, she brusquely dumped the cat, its screech of anger loud and unpleasant. "We're wasting time and there's much that we need to discuss."

"No, only one thing – her location."

The queen's sigh spoke of her impatience. "Tell me, why is this so important to you? It's been over two hundred years. Surely you are not under the illusion that she's been pining for you all this time?"

Miranda swallowed past the rising lump in her throat. In truth, she'd known it, of course. But knowing and having it confirmed were very different things. "No, of course not. I'm not an imbecile." She spared Elnora a withering glance. "But…" The lump grew further, for an altogether different reason. She ruthlessly forced down her tears, knowing that above anyone else, she'd never allow this woman to see her cry.

_Don't think about it. _

_Bury it. _

_Just shove it down, the way you've always buried it all_.

"I believe she has something that belo…" she corrected herself bitterly, "something that is of great value to me."

Elnora's gaze sharpened instantly. "What could you possibly have left here that long ago that you're so desperate to recover now?"

"Just tell me where she is. You owe me one small favour, don't you think? Or is even that too much of a hardship for the likes of _you_?" Her words dripped sarcasm.

"I owe you more than that. But it won't be a kindness to tell you where she is. Somehow, I doubt that you'll like what you will find."

A chill shivered its way down her spine at the surprising melancholy of Elnora's words."I think I'll judge that for myself."

The queen snorted, "Loyal to the bitter end? Perhaps you were perfect after all."

Rising out of bed, Miranda tried to smooth her wrinkled clothes. "I doubt there's anything that you would know about perfection."

"Unlike your precious Andrea?" The queen mockingly raised her right hand to her chest. "So kind, gentle and loving. Yes, she's all…_heart_. Wherever would we be without her?"

"Jealousy sits well on you, brings out the colour of your eyes."

"Only as much as ignorance obscures yours. You were a fool then, and you're still one now; never seeing past the surface to what lies within."

"Save the analysis for someone else. I've no wish to explore your psyche."

"How droll, a glib retort as always. Perhaps if you expended half the effort looking inward as deflecting outward, then you would not have missed what was right there the entire time."

"And pray enlighten me, what's that?"

"When the heavy wind blows, the strong reed bends; the weak one – breaks".

"You're the fool if you think that you ever broke me."

"You? No. Take care to note that I never lied to you that night. We _are_ cut from the same cloth, you and me. It'd take much more than heartbreak for us to shatter."

The chill intensified. "No-one ever died because of a broken heart."

Elnora rolled her eyes. "I would've thought such clichés were beneath you. But on the contrary, in this case, I assure you, they have. And more _will_ die unless we do something about it."

"Stop with the 'us' and 'we'," Miranda retorted automatically.

"Yes, yes. You are your own little glacier, floating alone, in a vast ocean of solitude." The queen made a sharp slicing motion with her hand, "Enough already. Own your mistakes and work out how to fix them."

"Own _my _mistakes?" Cold rage consumed Miranda, her eyes assuming a stormy hue. Had she been back in Washington, she knew everyone around her would've recognised the signs of a tirade and scurried from her path. "And tell me, what about yours? Or does being sovereign excuse you from your deeds?"

"I've faced what I have done a hundred times. If I could take it back, I would, but there's no use in wishing to relive the past. At least I stayed to deal with what I wrought; the same cannot be said of you."

"I had no choice."

"There's always a choice."

Whilst Elnora may have been the one to say the words, Miranda only heard the sound of Andrea's voice, expressing this very sentiment that night so long ago.

"You're right, I did choose – the only option which gave me back something you cruelly ripped away. Success, power and wealth – _you_ value those over any other thing. Surely, you understand?"

Elnora's posture stiffened, every motion stilled. Her eyes probed Miranda's with intent, trying to gauge the truth within her words. "You lie. How could you possibly have come by all those things? After that night, no noble would've retained you in their employ."

"I was once told – desperation is as powerful inspirer as genius. If you _wish_ for something hard enough, there is a chance it will come true. And you know _all_ about wishing, do you not, _your majesty_?"

Miranda watched Elnora pale, all colour leeching from her skin. "Y-you…y-you didn't…y-you couldn't…" she stuttered, unable to find the words. "Surely you were not so STUPID!" The last word thundered across the room, bolts of energy crackling over every surface.

Miranda shuddered as static danced along her skin.

"What did it ask for in return?" The queen's green irises darkened with the black of fury. "What price did it have you pay?"

More waves of energy lit up the walls.

"Should I not ask the same of you? It told me how it came to you and what it offered. You got your wish, what's wrong, buyer's remorse?"

The bolt hit her square in the chest, sending her flying back along the floor. Miranda lay coughing in pain as several ribs protested more abuse, still not recovered from the earlier meeting with the creature.

"You fool!" A hand slammed across her throat, crushing her windpipe with its grip. "You don't know what you've done."

_Now now, I do so hate to see you fight_.

The pressure at Miranda's throat eased, another settled within her chest. The fading light of the early evening sun streamed through the window causing a shimmer to ripple in front of them, outlining the pale translucent figure of the creature whose voice resounded across their minds. The absence of almost any facial feature made it seem both harmless and macabre.

"Come to collect something that belongs to you?" the queen spat out.

_Just making sure she gets to where she needs to go. I do so know your temper, Elnora. I would just hate it if you ruined my entertainment._

"What does she owe you?"

_Me? Why, nothing. I am but a humble vessel, I have no desires._

"Do not play coy with me. I know exactly what you are. So I will ask again – what does she owe you?"

_The debt is almost paid_. _Three days for the one that's owed to collect the rest._

"And who is that," Elnora whispered, already certain of the answer.

_Oh come now, I think you know._

The queen emitted a mirthless chuckle. "She'll show no mercy." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "to any of us."

_That's highly likely but not really my concern._

"You go too far, you will destroy us all."

Screeching laughter echoed across the room.

_Do not impugn me for their actions. You've always been too smart for that. Isn't that why __**you**__ turned down my offer?_

Miranda couldn't suppress a flinch – another revelation, different trick. How many more would the conclusive count show?

"This isn't over," both women uttered simultaneously.

_Well, I should hope not. Where is the fun in that?_

With those words, the shimmer gradually disappeared.

Elnora closed her eyes, sinking into the chair next to her. "What does she have that you want back so badly? What did it take of you already?"

"It's not important. The matter's none of your concern."

"You've no idea how wrong you are. The time for secrets is long gone. With or without you, I'll know soon enough. It isn't coin, status or power – she already holds them all. So tell me what it is. What did you wish for?"

Conceding this round, Miranda murmured, "A part of her, something that I'd have for years to come. I-I..it was holding something…the thing I wanted…"

"And you requested it? You asked specifically for the one thing in its grasp?"

"No." Irritation flared. "Must I repeat myself time after time? I believe I've already told you what I asked."

Shakily, the queen ran a hand across her face. "What did it give you?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "What did it give you in its place?"

"How could you…"

Elnora's look silenced Miranda's question.

"Children. Twin girls."

Elnora stared in disbelief. "Children? And they are…" she floundered for a moment before appearing to come to a realisation, "…with her now?"

Horror now overshadowed disbelief.

"That was the bargain. Two hundred and forty years. And that which I have held of hers must be returned."

"I will order the carriage readied." The queen rose from the chair. "We need to make way to her castle. A ten hour journey…time's not on our side. We have three days." Her tone was bleak. "Three days to stop her from what she's about to do."


	17. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

* * *

"**The wicked are wicked, no doubt, and they go astray and they fall, and they come by their deserts: but who can tell the mischief which the very virtuous do?"** – William Makepeace Thackeray

* * *

_Each White Queen was renowned for her kindness and an abiding love for preservation of all living things. She didn't crave power – at best it was but a means for achieving a goal – protection of her dominion. Lacking the inherent desire for supremacy, future White Queens were reluctant to assume the throne, shying away from ruthlessness such monarchy required. Only extensive years of rigorous training, instruction and involvement in the queen's affairs schooled the future White Queen to understand and respect the balance that had to be achieved. Even then, every ruler relied on an individual, one person who would stand at their side; to be their counterpoint and counsel, asserting the tough decisions that needed to be made. The level of trust bestowed on such an individual, as a rule, dictated marriage – an alliance with one of a high ranking status within the land; which served to strengthen both sovereign and kingdom. Regrettably, marriages – like wives and husbands – had the tendency to die, and it was for that reason the White Queen always chose a primary adviser. Their social status was immaterial; each one selected only for their strength of mind. There was but one stipulation – utter loyalty; unwavering commitment to both queen and duty._

_It was a pity then, that the reigning White Queen died prior to allotted time, and her successor rose to the throne a short quarter century past birth – unwed, no trusted adviser by her side; susceptible to risks of solitary rule._

_For her impetuous despairing actions would irrevocably revise the balance of the realm._

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Present Time**

The gentle clink of glass interrupted Andrea's reverie, the queen completely lost in memory and thought.

"As you requested, your majesty – three more vials. These should suffice."

"And you are certain they'll be conscious to some extent? I need for them to be awake."

The servant bowed, "Yes, your majesty. The experience is likely to mirror a waking dream. They will be capable of speech, applying logic, even performing simple tasks. However, it will make them sluggish, foggy; sufficiently enough that concentrating on one single thing should prove extremely difficult."

"Good. Take your leave. Summon the Captain of the Guard, I wish to talk to him."

"Of course, your majesty." The servant exited the room.

Dividing the contents of a vial into separate glasses, she mixed the potion with the water, observing the change to a pale shade of amber. At last, the pain in her head had lessened, a customary blissful calmness settling in place. Examining the child dispassionately, she catalogued each individual feature, searching for traces of herself. Perhaps the nose, clearly the mouth, and now she cast her mind back to that temporary meeting – undoubtedly, her eyes. The hair though, it triggered some distant memory, a reminder of someone she'd known long ago. That image remained elusive, barely brushing the contours of her mind, as most memories of…_before_. She'd buried more than she would care to admit, but it had been necessity, each one causing the phantom twinges in her chest the creature had warned about that night, two centuries ago.

The first few months had been the worst, the pain almost as severe, even with the excised pesky organ. Eventually the ghostly feelings started to diminish, each moment spent within her power's embrace, guiding her closer to desired goal. And then one day, one glorious day, she saw a hawk chasing a sparrow, toying with it ruthlessly before it killed. She waited for the twinge of pity, sorrow…anything.

It never came.

The next day she immersed the grounds in winter, observing unprepared animals try scurry from its chilly path.

They failed.

But as she surveyed the white in front of her, she realised that _she_ had not. The noise, the pain, the chaos inside her – all of it was gone. Left in their place – indifference; the calmness of complete detachment. All her decisions were now based in logic, choices reliant only on what helped achieve her goals.

At last, emotion no longer swayed her hand.

She slept – although she never dreamed, even unconsciously straying from that which could impede control.

She ate – only enough to sate her hunger, uncaring of the variety of meals they placed in front of her; food no longer consumed with pleasure as its goal.

She read – devoting many years to the refinement of knowledge, leaving no tome untouched within the libraries of the palace.

After that, she watched – impassively observing all within her kingdom, witnessing the same set of events year after year; a tapestry of cyclical mistakes.

All simply as they _felt_; any and all emotion demonstrating hindrance.

She realised then – that she alone held the power to perfect, to fix the world, give it the insight she possessed. She gathered her army, conveying her plan; relayed the message she expected them to carry; then watched as half of them laid down their arms, refusing to obey her orders.

The executions started then – fear replacing love; threat, proof compelling enough, to keep the rest in line. She spread winter everywhere she walked – an everlasting chilly numbness – an outward semblance of what lay inside, how she would like them all to be.

At first they had opposed her, some even physically, but she'd foreseen this – after all, humanity was scared of change. The executions continued, and soon enough, no-one would dare cross her path.

The need for executions stopped, her kingdom now immersed in snowy white, an icy wonderland as far as one could see.

Resuming careful study, she'd been so certain that her subjects would attain the control that she, herself, acquired. Instead, she saw them leave in droves; abandon her for a kingdom touched by summer bloom.

It was then she'd realised the truth – it wasn't nearly enough. If they could not choose wisely, she'd remove their choice; force conformation for their own good. Assembling her army again, she bid them cross the border, and conquer Kaledran – the Black Queen's vast domain.

"Your majesty?" The knock on the door disturbed her once again.

"Come in."

Cedric marched in, the sound of his armoured boots unnaturally loud in the silence of the room.

"What news?"

"We've taken Garwyn, Hanstvale and Liese. My men advance on Perleo. With no resistance they will be there by nightfall."

"Still nothing of Elnora's army?"

"No, your majesty."

"It won't be long. But there's another matter, a circumstance you didn't factor in."

The captain paled. "I do not think there's anything I've overlooked. What is it that you speak of?"

"The subject warrants no discussion. All that you need to know is that we'll soon have company. Have guards escort the _visitor_ to the throne room. Ensure that she doesn't snoop, restrain her if you have to. However, make certain that she doesn't come to harm. Must I remind you of the consequences of failure?"

Cedric swallowed audibly. "Of course not, your majesty, it will happen as you ask."

"Inform me when she's here. That's all." Andrea dismissed him with a wave, hearing the door slam shut behind him.

A groan transmitted from the bed, the stirrings of blanket a sign the girl was now regaining consciousness. Andrea picked up the glass, coming to lean over the figure lost within the sheets. The girl – _Cassidy_ – yawned loudly, giving a soft and sleepy smile. "You're here in the morning? What's the special occasion? I know it's not your birthday, I've got that plugged into my cell and there was no reminder. Oh wait, did it crash again? Maybe I wiped by mistake. It is your birthday, isn't it? Did I forget?"

She bolted upright.

Completely thrown off-balance by surprising questions, Andrea lowered herself to sit upon the bed, pushing the girl back down to keep her still. "You haven't forgotten anything, don't worry."

"Oh phew, you had me scared there for a sec." The sleepy smile turned into a grin, Andrea becoming aware that she instinctively caressed the child's arm. Retracting her hand as if it'd just been scalded, her brain belatedly processed the texture of the skin, the warmth and softness underneath her fingers. "Mmm…no, keep going, that's nice." Grabbing Andrea's hand, the girl returned it to her arm.

She couldn't clearly remember when she'd deigned to bestow a touch; undoubtedly it wasn't to a child. But she could well recall when anyone had touched, had dared, to lift their hand to her. Long forgotten sensations nestled in her mind; a minor tremor consequent effect.

At once she pulled her hand away again. These girls embodied danger, epitomising all she'd left behind.

"You must be thirsty. Here, drink this." Thrusting the glass in Cassidy's direction, she watched the girl sit up and take it from her hands.

This time, Andrea was careful to avoid her touch.

"Thanks, I don't know why I'm so tired." Cassidy gulped down the drink in one, draining the potent mixture. "Is it okay to sleep a little longer?"

"Of course, you'll stay here all day if that is what you wish."

"Thanks Mum." The girl snuggled back down again. "Can Julia make us waffles with honey and maple syrup? And maybe you can stay for breakfast. I know you are on the campaign trail but we never see you anymore. I miss you, we both do."

Andrea clenched her fist, this tremor in her mind more pronounced.

_Mother_.

The girl imagined Andrea to be her mother.

How very fitting.

"Yes, sleep now," she soothed, "and you'll have all the waffles that you want."

Inside she marvelled at the garnered knowledge – a most useful leverage indeed. Mother and daughters were estranged. How wonderful – a veritable breeding ground for emotion -- so much the easier to drive a wedge.

She made to rise but Cassidy's hand cut her progress short. Despite concerns, she let it rest where it lay. "Tell me a story while I fall asleep?"

"A story?" Andrea frowned. "What kind of tale would you like to hear?"

The girl breathed out a dreamy sigh, "Something romantic, where people fall in love, and everyone lives happy ever after."

Andrea's lips curled in a joyless smile. "Love? Oh, I don't think you want to hear about that."

"Of course I do! Everyone wants to get married and fall in love. It's epic!" Accompanying the words, the child waved her hand in animation.

Andrea searched her memory, calling to the forefront of her mind events that had transpired so long ago. The memories were hazy, barely there, uncomfortably out of reach. She concentrated harder, until they coalesced into proceedings of the past.

Removing Cassidy's hand, she murmured coldly, "You'd like a story about _love_? I've just the thing."

* * *

As she'd predicted, her guest's arrival served to be prompt, shade quicker than expected. En route to the throne room to see her, Andrea pondered the hours she'd just spent with the girls.

Despite the fact that she had kept them drugged, the pull of their emotion seemed resolute, tugging her consciousness with rapid frequency. By the end of the day, the pain had quietened to a quiet roar, her mind adjusting to the chronic tremors. She'd had to tell a few more stories to Cassidy, each one under the guise of 'mother.' Caroline did not seem prone to such flights of fancy, her delusions soon revealing motive – a far more wounded psyche; maternal relationship in greater disrepair. That fact alone would have made her job much simpler, but added to that, was her peculiar impulse to seek validation from Andrea herself. The girl had cast her longing looks, each one causing a painful tremor to flit across the White Queen's mind.

No, Caroline would not present a challenge.

Snapping herself into the present, she passed under the throne room's archway. Her silent entrance afforded her unseen examination of the woman standing with her back to her, the _guest_ that she was here to see.

Her clothes were wrinkled, as though the long hours of the journey took their toll, but they were clearly tailored at a great expense. Standing just slightly shorter than Andrea, her body was in outstanding shape. The short platinum hair that crowned her head gave her a striking regal air but stirred no memory, Andrea assuming it was not the colour that it'd been.

As if becoming aware of the scrutiny, the woman stiffened and slowly turned around.

Ready to use any and all vulnerabilities, Andrea prepared to strike her damaging attack. "Hello, Miranda." Her voice was cool, her stare razor-sharp.

Even as she spoke, the monarch noted several things. The woman's eyes were pale blue, reflecting a gamut of emotions; her patrician features shone aesthetic beauty, the aging face enhancing, not diminishing, allure. Around her neck dangled a simple pendant – the sight of which stirred recognition; beside that, some measure of sensation Andrea would not acknowledge.

Allowing herself a candid observation, she thought _at least I cannot fault my taste_.

"Andrea." Miranda inclined her head – perhaps politeness, perchance concealing emotion in her eyes. "It's been a very long time."

"So long that you cannot recall correct address? Last time I looked I happened to be queen, and we are not on first name terms."

A hint of pink stained Miranda's neck. "Of course, _your majesty_, how could I possibly forget my place?"

"I can't imagine, after all, you've been reminded enough."

This time the pink flared slightly higher. "We're not here to discuss my station."

"Then care to tell me what we're here to discuss? I'd say the period for catching up has passed…some time ago."

"When last I knew you, games were not your forte."

"You'll find I have many new diversions now. But you are right, let us dispense with any manner of pretence. Tell me, what punishment is fitting for your crime?"

"What crime is that?" Miranda asked, her cool façade securely back in place.

"You're right, it's hard to choose one from so many. But in this case, I refer to your recent misdemeanour – you keeping children away from their mother."

"You've never been their mother, save for blood."

"Oh, and you have? That's interesting. I've spent some time with both of them since they've arrived. Their stories of childhood leave much to be desired."

"Who are you to judge how I have raised my children?" A hint of anger slipped Miranda's tightly held control.

"You mean _my_ children, don't you? Who are _you_ to them?"

Predictably, the anger flared anew. "I'm more to them than you will ever be."

"Well, that remains to be seen. So I'll ask once more, what is it you are here to discuss?"

Andrea watched Miranda sigh, dragging a hand across her face, the tiredness deep set enough to indicate she hadn't slept for what appeared to be a very long time."Andrea, I don't want to fight." The whispered statement held the air of resignation. "I only wish that things could…"

"…go back to what they were? And how was that? I'll have to ask you to remind me. You see, in the last two centuries or so, I've had more pressing matters on my mind than dwelling on the follies of my misspent youth."

Scoring another hit, she watched Miranda's mouth tighten. "What's done is done. Let's start anew."

"You're right. That was my plan before discovery of your deed – to thank you for showing me a thing I'd never have found for myself."

"And what is that?"

"A world without clutter. I may have chosen to forget you but I won't ever forget the words you spoke to me that night. You were correct, emotion does cloud judgement. Because of you, it's all much clearer now, far simpler than it used to be."

"I've seen first hand the impact of your _vision_. You've misinterpreted my words, changed them to suit your actions. Look around, Andrea – people are dead and more are dying. You've gone too far."

"I disagree; you've never gone far enough. You mouth the words, at times follow through with action, but deep down inside, you are as slave to your emotion as them all. You choose to hide, Miranda, to pretend -- I see it even now." She watched each cold word hit its target. "I have no need for such level of self-deception. I've fully embraced all that I've come to be."

At this pronouncement a spark of something flared in Miranda's eyes, before a wall came down, leaving a gaze impossible to read. "Then nothing remains of the girl that I once knew."

"You're wrong again; all of this always lay inside. There is but one thing absent and you may as well have taken it when you abandoned me so callously that night."

"What --this?" Miranda gripped the pendant in her hand.

Again Andrea felt that flare of sensation, brief recognition flitting through her mind.

"No, and I've no idea what that is, other than some tawdry piece of glass. Millions just like it can be acquired for a pittance."

"Then what?"

"Isn't it obvious? I am referring to --"

Before Andrea could finish the sentence, a loud booming noise assaulted their eardrums; seconds later tremors shaking the entire room. Plaster rained down from the ceiling, peppering the throne and everything around it.

"For god's sake, Andrea, watch out!"

Andrea's mind had barely registered the shout before a weight swept her off her feet, knocking her down onto the floor as a chandelier crashed down where she'd been standing seconds ago, a rainfall of crystal spreading outward on impact. Lying there, attempting to take a breath, her mind transmitted the sensation of another body, the soft weight lying on top of her whilst unfamiliar, not totally unpleasant.

"Your majesty," several voices rang out at once, hands pushing Miranda off the queen, helping Andrea to rise. "Where are you hurt?"

She wondered how much more unsolicited contact she'd endure. "I'm fine. What is the meaning of this?"

"The force of the blast and its direction likely indicates the armoury, your majesty. We have many new recruits, perhaps…"

Andrea cut them short mid-explanation. "I will examine the damage myself. Meanwhile, you two are to remain here." She gestured towards the two men closest to her. "Don't let this woman out of your sight, no matter what she says or does."

The queen swivelled to face Miranda who was just rising to her feet. She waited until the older woman's gaze met hers before she uttered, "This isn't over, there's much to be decided. Do not think for a second that the absurd behaviour just now holds any sway. It only reinforces what I've said; deep down emotion, not logic, guides your hand. You are fortunate our positions weren't reversed." Seeing Miranda trying to retreat to where she wouldn't feel the impact of Andrea's words, she added without hesitation, "I would have let you die."

* * *

Just hours later, Andrea had further cause to mean those words.

The early light of dawn just brushed the tips of the castle's highest turrets, signalling the onset of another day. Standing on the parapet, her eyes perused the landscape, as though her eyesight could perceive those that were now considerably far away. She knew Cedric had come to stand behind her but he was too well trained to utter any word until she deigned to address him.

At last she spoke, already knowing the answer to her question. "The men that guarded her are dead?"

"Yes, your majesty, even if they'd seen the Black Queen coming, their weapons would've been no match for her. As things stand, I doubt they were even aware of her presence before she struck them down."

"Well then, how fortunate for _them_," Andrea's voice radiated icy cold derision. "How much of a head start does Miranda have?"

"Their attack served as a clever ruse; knowing that we'd be occupied for quite some time. I estimate two hours, maybe three. If Elnora herself assists Miranda then we have no hope of catching them before they reach their destination. No steed of ours will outride the horses from the queen's own stables; they are the fastest in the land."

"Careful, Cedric, or I'll believe that's admiration that I hear in your voice."

She heard the sharp intake of breath behind her. "Of course not, your majesty, my loyalty and devotion are reserved solely for you, to do with as you please."

Andrea had very little doubt about that but equally, she knew that those around her served out of fear rather than devotion, and fear had a habit of diminishing unless it was always reinforced. "It would be in your interest to see that it remains that way." She let the threat linger between them. "But to your point, their speed is immaterial; there is no need for a pursuit – they will return. I merely want to ensure the next time I'm well prepared."

"Your majesty?" His voice carried bewilderment at her conviction.

"Elnora took only one but that is all that she required. Miranda will want them both. She is a mother, she'll be back."

"She won't breach our gates again."

"No, let her come. My plans call for her presence. Then I can finish what I started long ago and I'll be done with its abhorrent influence once and for all."

"What of the one they left?"

"Caroline? Bring her to me. It's time she learned the true extent of her mother's nature."

* * *

Examining Caroline's pale stricken face, Andrea impassively observed this glimpse into the mirror of the past, certain as she was that the expression on the young girl's face perfectly matched Andrea's own that night over two centuries ago. The soft brown eyes staring at the queen implored her to retract her statement, pronounce it to be a lie. The tears shimmered in the young girl's eyes, as yet to fall, lip almost bitten through with the effort of keeping them at bay. Andrea allowed herself a moment's satisfaction – Caroline's propensity for control undoubtedly surpassed her sister's, greatly overshadowing Andrea's at that age. She was still young but her potential – infinite.

"S-she w-wouldn't do that. S-she'd never just leave me." The girl's voice wobbled as it pierced the morning air.

"And yet I do not see your sister here, do you?" Andrea gracefully swept out her arm, vaguely encompassing the castle grounds.

"This is another trick. What've you done to Cassidy? I swear if you've hurt her --"

"I can assure you your sister never came to any harm within these walls. However, as she is no longer within them, I cannot say the same about her person now."

"I-I d-don't b-b-believe you."

"You don't have to. Ask anyone, they'll verify the truth of what I say."

"And what's the fucking point?" Anger laced Caroline's voice. "Don't try and tell me they won't lie for you."

_I won't._

Slowly materialising, the creature shimmered in the light of morning sun.

"W-who a-are you?" Caroline squinted, trying to get a better look; recoiling in shock when she eventually perceived what she was seeing. "W-what a-are you? Why can I only hear your voice inside my head?"

_For one as I, names hold no meaning. And as for why I cannot speak, just look at me. Is there some place that you imagine I am hiding vocal cords?_

Caroline flushed at the rebuke and muttered sullenly, "Talking in my head doesn't imply that you aren't capable of lies."

The creature's laughter rose in a wall of screeching noise, seeming to never end until Andrea interceded, "That's enough."

_Forgive me, I forget myself. Isn't it incredible how much we see when we are young, Andrea?_

"Say what you came here to say, then leave."

_Tut tut, always so eager to get rid of me, one comes to think one isn't welcome. But very well _– _Caroline, I am a slave to none. She cannot pay, harm or entice me to untruths. Your mother was here earlier and she did leave with your sister. No single word of that happens to be a lie._

Andrea saw Caroline swallow hard, the girl at last losing her battle with the tears, two big fat drops proceeding to roll down her cheeks. "My mother loves me," she whispered.

_That is not in question. There are simply other things that she loves more. That's all, I'm sure you understand. Andrea certainly does, don't you, Andrea?_

The White Queen nodded, for the first time seeing doubt creep into the child's eyes. Relaxing at last, she knew she just had to deliver a concluding push before the girl proved malleable enough to do with as she pleased.

"You're not the only one she's ever left behind." She made distress colour her voice, the fake emotion sounding less real than she'd hoped. Thankfully, the girl appeared not to notice.

"S-she left you too? How -- she doesn't even know you!"

"On the contrary, Caroline, it's you that doesn't know her. Your whole life is one carefully constructed lie, based on an act as heartless as the one today. She leaves people, discards them when their use has run its course." Andrea paused, the waves of anguish rolling off Caroline excruciatingly resounding within her head. She willed herself to stand the torture, complete what she had set out to say, "The way that she abandoned me."

"Bullshit! We've never been here before. We don't even know where 'here' is! You can't have known my mother, you're lying, it's impossible!"

_Nothing's impossible, my dear. You only have to want something enough and I will do the rest. After all, that's how you and your sister came to be..._


	18. Chapter 16

PART THREE

Chapter 16

* * *

"**For there is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and to have recovered hope."** – George Elliot

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Just over 240 years ago – Andrea's 25****th**** Birthday**

Yanking open the door to her mother's chamber, Andrea ignored the resounding crash of wood against the marble. She hurried into the room, her rage blinding her to any presence bar one. "We need to talk!"

Her mother's head snapped up from where she sat. "Andrea, I'm sure you can see that I'm attending to other matters." She nodded to indicate Laurence kneeling down beside her chair, his fingers grasping Isabella's wrist.

"You can attend to him another night. Don't worry, he'll still be here, and we can all continue to keep turning a blind eye as to why you _really_ require his presence," she finished mockingly, "oh so often."

"Your highness," Laurence started to address her.

"Get out!" Andrea's voice was unnaturally shrill, her tolerance exhausted by her quarrel with Miranda and the subsequent prolonged bout of tears. "Now! That's an order."

"Be mindful of how you speak, Andrea," her mother's voice was dangerously low, "You aren't queen of this kingdom yet."

"I don't need to be queen should I desire to give any decree to such a lowly servant. He is but _nothing_ and will do as I command."

The queen's outraged gaze bore into hers, swiftly discerning the true reason behind the callous words. Straightening in her chair, she nodded, "She is right, Laurence. Please, I request you take your leave."

"Your majesty, I beg you. I need to…"

Andrea interrupted him, full of irate impatience. "The only thing you need to do is _leave_."

She watched her mother nod and squeeze the physician's hand, something quick and silent passing between them. She felt a moment of regret but the hand of pain that squeezed her own heart overrode all concerns.

"Your majesty," Laurence bowed once. Turning to face Andrea, he bowed again, "_Your highness._" His tone left little room for doubt as to which of the designations was truly meant. As he walked out of the room and past Andrea, she could see anger in his eyes, and something else he'd never aimed in her direction – disappointment. Swallowing her apology, she hoped he'd understand when she explained the circumstances later.

The quiet shutting of the door served only to elevate the tension, both women finally appraising each other with contempt.

"H-how dare you?" Isabella's voice trembled with anger.

"I? What about _you_?" Andrea's rang with equal rage.

"You have _no_ right."

"Yes and you've made that crystal clear today. Perhaps I should've had you pen a note of what I _am_ entitled to, years ago – that way I would've known my right to happiness is yet another right that's never made your list!"

"Quite to the contrary, Andrea," this time her mother's voice was quietly bitter, "Your happiness has always been of the utmost importance to me; quite frankly, to the detriment of us both."

"Of course. You _would_ see love as lapse in judgement. After all, it's something which you constantly deny. Tell me, why don't you marry him? Why is it you demean him by allowing him to share your bed at night and during the day acting like nothing happens? Are you aware of the gossip and the whispers that go on behind his back? What does he see when he looks in the mirror -- a real man, or a convenient vessel the queen chooses to use when she sees fit to satisfy her needs?"

Her mother paled further with every word Andrea uttered until almost no scrap of colour remained on her face. "That's enough," she eventually snapped out, her voice as sharp as any whip. "Your ignorance astounds me. That you would presume to know a thing about my relationship with Laurence is dire enough but to think that you stand here before me, genuinely bewildered by why I've not married the man I love, tells me you've learned precisely naught about the convention and propriety that one has to adhere to when she is queen."

"Stuff your convention -- I'm sick of all your rules! Tell me why I must live my life in misery, deny the person that I love the same simple acceptance that's afforded to me. Explain how manner of birth gives you the right to sit in judgement of those not as privileged as yourself, and find them lacking as an equal?"

"Again, oblivious to the truth, I see. The fact of the matter is," Isabella's tone acquired an unprecedented aloofness, "the only one I find lacking…is _you_."

The ever-present wound in Andrea's heart re-opened, her mother's harsh words only echoing Miranda's sentiments uttered so many times before, most recently tonight.

_You're not enough__. _

The pain of this opinion ripped through her, misting her eyes with tears. For once, her mother remained unmoved, her impassive stare holding none of her usual warmth.

Anguished, Andrea bit out, "Why -- because I refuse to live a lie? That may be fine for you but I want something _more_ than that."

The queen's laughter was harsh. "You still don't see that it is not about _you_. You stand on the verge of being queen but act like a spoiled child that can't see past her needs. You think the sacrifices that I've made were easy? Do you suppose that any queen enjoys hurting those that she loves?" Isabella seemed to pause for a moment, her laboured breathing loud in the stillness of the room. "We do what we must for our kingdom and our people. They opt to spend their life in our service but _we _are not afforded the luxury of choice."

"There's always a choice," Andrea whispered; unwilling to relinquish her beliefs.

Isabella sighed, sadness and something else clouding her face. "Seven long years and you still refuse to see." As though forgetting who she was addressing, she continued, "That night I really thought she made you…" Her words abruptly skidded to a halt, pained regret bruising her eyes at once.

It took a moment for the truth to dawn and then the chill began to spread, numbing Andrea's body, even her lips. "T-that w-was…y-you…y-you made…"

"Andrea -- I didn't mean for you to find out like this." The queen shakily rose to her feet, her hand reaching out to clutch the chair the moment that she stood.

"Y-you d-didn't m-mean for me to know at all." As the reality of her words fully recorded in Andrea's mind, the chill switched to a white hot rage. "You made her do it. You had her push me away. Six years, you've cost me six years with her!"The rage rose higher, obscuring the likelihood of this being true. "Tell me, is that what happened today? You know me so well, _mother_," the last word positively dripped derision, "that it must have taken you no effort at all to determine precisely where to strike. H-how c-could you?" Andrea shuddered. "I'll never forgive you for this."

"A-andrea, no," the queen quivered in turn. "I don't know what you speak of. There was no order decreed today except the one to leave."

"Yes, of course, and I believe you. It's not as though you've ever lied to me before." Andrea mocked in a sing song voice, "Oh wait…"

"A-andrea…this is no lie. Give me a chance and I will prove the truth of her interest in you."

"Stop! Enough of your meddling and untruths! I can't believe I didn't catch that it was all an act. She's never wanted the throne, only me." Andrea finished grimly, "And she will get _exactly_ what she wants."

"The only thing…she will get…is to leave…tonight." Her mother gasped out the words, her breath coming with difficulty. "She…will not be…queen."

"No --" Andrea spat out, her rage making her oblivious to her mother's state, "then neither will I."

"W-what do you m-mean?" Her mother swayed, remaining vestige of colour leaving her nearly stark face.

"If she is to leave tonight, then I go with her."

"I will not allow it." For a split second, the queen regained her earlier resolve.

"You cannot stop me. Or do you plan to restrain -- hold me here against my will?"

"I-if that is what it t-takes." The tremble returned, more evident than before.

"You can do that, it is your choice. Just as assuming the throne is mine."

"Y-you will change your mind…in time…you will see…" The queen leant harder on her chair, clumsily sagging against it as one hand pressed itself to the left side of her chest.

Andrea, too absorbed with her own pent-up emotions to care, took no notice of events occurring right in front of her. "No," she shook her head. "If you keep me here against my will, all I will see," her voice held both anger and sorrow, "is a person I no longer trust, respect or love."

Having pronounced this, Andrea turned away, unable to bear looking at her mother any longer.

The gurgling gasp that followed her words echoed abnormally across the room, its ghastly sound enough to whip Andrea out of her self absorption, spinning her round to confront its source. As if time suddenly slowed, she watched her mother gradually collapse; chair toppling down beside her in the process.

Terror overrode all emotion instantly, Andrea not even realising she'd crossed the room until she found herself down on her knees, bent over the queen, hands running over frail body. "Mother? W-what is it, w-what's wrong? W-what's the matter?"

"A-a-ndrea…"

"GUARDS!" Andrea's wail conveyed the fear and anguish coursing through her body.

It felt like hours till footsteps sounded outside the door; bodies burst through, ready to take up any battle. But this was one fight mortal weapons couldn't win, the guards rushing off, loudly shouting for the physician.

Everything on the periphery went dim, Andrea's focus narrowing on the beloved person dying in front of her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean it…I didn't mean any of it." She only realised she was crying when moisture pooled and slid down her mother's cheeks, the angle all wrong for it to have been the monarch's tears.

"P-p-l-e-ase…" The rattle was stronger now, Isabella's body wracked by shudders, her eyes radiating agonising pain.

"Forgive me…please forgive me." The drops came faster now, Andrea weeping for all the foolish insults said tonight, as if her tears could wash away the pain they'd inflicted. She wanted to scream, beg someone, anyone, to make this stop.

Making silent promises, she bartered and bargained; swore she'd become the person her mother wanted her to be.

_Just give me one more day, one final chance._

Her pleas all went unheeded.

"Y-you sh-hou-l-d d-do w-wh-hat…" Her mother's body was gripped by a colossal shudder before she had the chance to finish, her eyes fluttering closed, body going still.

"M-mother?" Andrea queried uncertainly, her mind protectively shutting down. "M-mother…?"

Hands gently pulled her back, Andrea finding herself wrapped in a warm embrace. She raised her head, encountering the misty blue that stared with pity into hers. "L-Laurence…Y-you have to help her…you h-have to…"

The arms surrounding her constricted tighter, pulling her closer to his body. "There's nothing to be done. She's gone, Andrea. I'm sorry, so very sorry."

His own anguish so clear, her mind immediately reminded her of the heartless words she'd uttered to him earlier. He hadn't deserved them – by rights he should've still been furious, and yet he found it within himself to hold her with such tenderness, murmuring a litany of soothing noise into her ear.

She felt something within her drop and shatter – the pieces coalescing into shame; a heavy weight which settled in her stomach. Andrea felt bile rise up and surged up out of Laurence's grasp in time to lose the contents of her stomach all over the rug she'd had hand-crafted for her mother's birthday. That thought led to another, a realisation, there would be no more birthday gifts to come. The shame gave way to guilt, the weight of which pressed even heavier upon her. Her mother would not be dead right now if it wasn't for Andrea's reckless actions. If only she'd been paying attention, maintained some semblance of control. That train of thought forced her to retch again, her body making futile efforts to expel the absent contents of her stomach. Grief settled like a blanket, sobs wracking her entire body.

She vaguely heard the wisps of conversation floating around her, "…guests must be informed…" "…she is not fit to do this…" "…a mild tonic to help her sleep…" She felt relief, aware that she would soon not have to hear anything at all.

_We do what we must for our kingdom and our people._

Unbidden, her mother's words went through her mind, shame rearing its head anew. To hide was actions of a coward; Andrea planning to cower in shelter that medication offered. Her mother had never run from anything, would not approve of what Andrea was thinking now. She steeled herself for the difficult task ahead. Perhaps too little too late but she would see her duty as a new queen done. Then she would find Miranda, just as this morning – this time to seek the solace always found in her arms.

* * *

"Your highness," the words appeared to come from leagues away, barely penetrating the fog blanketing Andrea's mind. "I'm sorry," it paused, "of course, it isn't that any more now, is it?" Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks at the amendment. Their appearance was followed by a quiet sigh. "Andrea."

She continued to stare at the wall. "L-leave me alone…please."

"Andrea, I cannot let you sit here all night. The guests have left some time ago and the servants must start to clear the tables. They cannot do so with you here. No-one would dare to disturb you but you must allow them to continue doing their job. We have to go on," Laurence patted her arm, "all of us have to go on without her."

"I don't know how," she whispered bleakly.

"Yes, you do. Whatever went on tonight, the words that may've been exchanged – put them out of your mind. She was proud of you, you've always meant more to her than anything else. Do you know how often she'd talk about you? Some nights that was all that I would hear." His chuckle was rueful. "Andy this…Andy that…"

Andrea felt her heart spasm at the realisation that the name not allowed to pass anyone else's lips was the pet name her mother used in private. Just another thing she hadn't known about her – undoubtedly one of many.

"She believed in you," Laurence continued, "now it's time for you to trust yourself. We are here for you Andrea, you're not alone. We all stand willingly by your side."

"Not _all_ of you." Her hopelessness washed over her in waves.

Laurence sighed. "Andrea, what Miranda did, she -- I've known her since the first day she came to the palace, far younger than you are right now. Give her a chance, wait for an explanation. This…this is unlike her…she would not betray us or the kingdom. You must know she would never abandon you."

"She already did."

"No, she just left the dining hall tonight. She isn't in her chamber but she will return."

"No. She won't."

The bleak despair in Andrea's tone finally made Laurence frown, "There's something amiss here. Why," he crouched down beside her chair, "would she not come back? This mess tonight, we will resolve it, she _will_ stand at your side as planned. What is it that I do not know?"

"She'll never go against my mother's final wish."

"What wish? Andrea, what went on tonight? The queen barely left her chamber; she met with both of you. Whatever transpired caused her a great deal of…" Laurence halted awkwardly.

The sentence needed no completion, Andrea already so painfully aware of her own contribution to her mother's death. "She bid Miranda leave. Banishment from Ashadriel."

The swift intake of breath was Laurence's only outward reaction. "Banishment? You're certain? I cannot imagine why. This is all the more reason to wait for her return. Once everything is clear, we'll figure out how to set this right."

"It's clear now." Andrea's chuckle was mirthless – half laugh, half sob. "Even you can't fix this."

"Is Miranda's transgression so truly great?" He teased gently, hoping to elicit a smile from the girl he loved as much as if she'd been his own child.

Andrea answered him indirectly. "What was it like, Laurence, having to pretend? I saw how much you loved her. It must have killed you to watch from afar -- why didn't you leave? Why stay here when it made you so unhappy?"

Laurence pressed a hand over his eyes, his wisdom allowing him to hear what she did not put into words. "I was happy, Andrea. Every minute spent in your mother's company was a blessing. Even when she was ill, the pain so bad she couldn't sleep in my arms she shook so strongly, the thought of leaving never crossed my mind. You can't always change things, Andrea. Sometimes conditions are simply what they are."

"W-what if you want something more? What if it's not enough?"

"You find a way to make it work. That's what love is."

Fear made her voice tremble, "And w-what if you c-can't find a way?"

Laurence rose, adjusting his collar awkwardly. "Now's not the time for this discussion. It's late, we should…"

"Answer me, Laurence. Just once, I'd like to hear the truth tonight," Andrea whispered. "What if you can't make something work?"

He sighed in resignation, his stooping stance conveying both weariness and discomfort. "Then you walk away, Andrea." His eyes held only the sadness of understanding. "You cut your losses and you walk away."

Andreas's breath hitched, this time a longer spasm clenching her heart, stretching into what seemed to be forever. She wondered if a heart could really break, if this was how her mother felt before she died.

"She's not coming back, is she, Laurence?"

The poignant question hung in the air between them.

His silence was all the answer that she needed.

Rising from the chair, she declined his arm. "Thank you, you've done enough. I know that you must want to -- that you must want to see my mother's b -- her." She couldn't bear to call her mother a body, probably never would. "I've already informed the guards, they will allow you access at any time."

"What about you?" Laurence queried softly.

"I-I wish to visit the garden for a while. It was one of her favourite places, mine too. We spent…" She choked back a sob.

"Andrea, it's the middle of the night. You shouldn't be out there by yourself."

She dredged up a likely pitiful smile. "I'll be fine."

"Let me come with you."

"No, I'd rather be alone."

His gaze sharpened, "Andrea...you wouldn't…You aren't planning…?" He swallowed painfully as if unable to stomach the thought.

"No, of course not, I'm a hundred paces from the door. What is the worst that you envisage might happen?"

Laurence appeared to relax. "Of course, you must forgive me. Tonight has made this foolish old man see shadows in every corner. I've left the tonic beside your bed, you need to rest. Tomorrow is another day, you must prepare for much to change," he executed a stiff bow, "your majesty."

The newly bestowed title drew a line between them, serving only as a painful reminder that their relationship was one of the many things that wouldn't stay the same. She saw Laurence take his leave and felt fresh agony well up within her, its clutches already so well-known tonight.

_I am alone now._

The walk to the garden seemed endless, servants mercifully staying out of her way. Finally she stepped outside, the midnight air caressing her face, welcoming Andrea to the sanctuary that never failed to gladden her heart. She roamed the grounds, searching for comfort always found here, but tonight the peaceful plateau didn't soothe. Instead her heart was plagued by the incessant throb of grief and sorrow, her mind magnifying the torture by bringing forth each painful memory of this place.

The fountain first:

_I thought it would be…different._

_I thought I would be more._

Her own voice, speaking truths still apt even though seven years had passed.

She tightly pressed her arms around herself, attempting to deny that which already lay inside.

_Who makes you want to be something you are not, Andrea?_

_What is it that you wish you had?_

Her mother's voice joined her own, full of silent accusations aimed at the daughter that'd never measured up.

The koi pond next:

_I see the same silly immature child who doesn't think twice about the consequences of her actions._

_Your deeds determine us all._

Now finally Miranda's joined the rest, her castigation so real it was as if she stood right there admonishing her still.

A keening sound pierced the stillness of the air, Andrea dropping to her knees. She couldn't stop the sobs, didn't want to try. They wracked her body in great big shudders, threatening to tear her apart. Other – subdued – memories broke free, blending together in a deafening clamour.

_I have my duties, Andrea, as do you. Never lose sight of what comes first._

_We do what we must for our kingdom and our people._

_Did you really think that I would be interested in you?_

_Grow up, Andrea._

_The only one I find lacking is you._

_Emotion clouds your judgement. It only serves to obscure the truth._

Clapping her hands over her ears, she fiercely clutched her head; attempting to expel the memories which revolved within. They only quickened, appearing so fast they tangled together in her mind, swirling in a litany around her.

_Never lose sight we do what we must for our kingdom grow up I find lacking is you emotion clouds your judgement grow up interested in someone like you I find lacking grow up the truth emotion clouds grow up_

"S-st-top…p-please…I'll do anything…j-just m-make it stop…Make all this stop…" she begged, sheer agony shredding her mind and heart.

_You have that power, Andrea._

A new voice echoed in her mind, one that she knew did not belong to any memory inside her head. It sheared through the din of noise, trailing a blissful silence in its wake.

"W-who a-are y-you? W-what d-do you want?"

_The better question – what it is __**you**__ want?_

"I-I don't know what you mean."

_I think you do. And I can give it to you._

"T-that isn't possible."

_Nothing is impossible, Andrea. You only have to want something enough and I will do the rest._

"Y-you c-cannot raise the dead. "

_No, even that's beyond my powers. Also quite immaterial; we both know that is not your wish._

"I have no other."

_Oh, you do. It cries out even now, begging to be released._

The pain and anguish resumed, battering both heart and mind. "You're right. There is something else I want."

_Do you truly comprehend what you are asking for?_

"I want it gone. Without its influence, I'll finally be as I should. I'll have control; at last I will be free to think like others do – Miranda, my mother, even Elnora herself.

_You understand what you'll be giving up?_

"Pain. Anguish. Suffering."

_All those – yes – but so much more. This wish wields a heavy price, think carefully on it. You cannot pick and choose, Andrea, it's either all or none._

"Had I been free of all emotion, my mother would still be alive tonight; watching Miranda walk away would not have torn out my heart."

_Then hold her accountable for her actions. Shouldn't she be punished for not loving you enough?_

The throb of pain increased. "She warned me many times, even tonight, about the dangers of emotion. She was right; I was foolish not to listen."

_And how much time was spent convincing you? Was it not in her interests to make you care?_

"You cannot force someone to love you."

_Of course not, but you __**can**__ push them away. It is a kindness that any decent person would bestow._

"She tried, I wouldn't let her."

Its laughter pierced the pain within her.

_Do you really think there was anything you made her do that she did not want for herself? She faced a choice, much as you face before you now. She chose for herself, now it's your turn._

Andrea forced herself to see the truth in those words.

"What is it that you'd have me do?"

_I? This is not my wish. I cannot choose for you, Andrea, the decision's yours._

She searched through her mind, the answer crystallising slowly. "Then I would also have a chance to face her, show her exactly what she threw away. I want to make her feel a fraction of my pain now."

_You will need time. Your wish won't change you overnight._

"It took six years to acquire any art that I have now. Just to make sure, double that."

_Very well, she'll have twelve years then you will have three days. To confront her, take from her that which she took from you tonight._

Andrea frowned, "Three days? I think you overestimate the power of my sway. Even six years was not enough to win her heart."

_Time changes things – people…feelings…circumstances. It will be different. You'll have to trust me when I say that three days will prove long enough._

"How will I know it's time?"

She heard its laughter ring again.

_Oh, I assure you, you'll feel it. The link between you will take care of that._

"Then do it. Take my heart."

_You're certain? This is your final chance, there's still time to turn back._

The memories rushed through her mind like a kaleidoscope, all of them – bad and good. The bad caused outright pain, the good now simply bittersweet.

She let go of them all. "I'm certain."

_Very well._

She felt its presence then wind its way around her slowly. The pain increased, spiking even stronger than it had all night. Her chest constricted, breathing shallow and strained. She saw stars, and also inky blackness. It took several moments to realise they were real and she had simply fallen on her back, her gaze encountering the midnight sky. The pressure eased, and with it the pain in her heart diminished somewhat, throbbing slightly duller than before.

_It's done._

She raised a trembling hand, touching the place her traitorous organ used to beat.

With shock, she felt it beating still. "You lie – I hear it in my chest."

_Did you miss the part about being unable to raise the dead? What do you imagine that you'd be if you were missing the actual organ? I only have the power to deaden what you feel._

"Then why is it I hurt?"

Inside her mind irritation trickled through its voice.

"_The heart is not a magic switch, Andrea. I cannot turn it on and off. Why do you think I warned that you need time? Sometimes I wonder if you all think I talk simply to hear myself speak."_

"How long?"

_The feelings will diminish in due course. Every action that you take, every minute you embrace your powers, will serve to push you closer to your goal._

"No White Queen's ever had powers; that is the Black Queen's predilection."

_Of course they have, they exist within you along with everything else. Ashadriel's rulers choose to embrace the living, thereby suppressing anything with capacity for destruction._

"Then how am I to gain them? I won't hurt anything around me."

_Oh, but you will, just give it time. Soon you'll forget what it is like to feel, care and be interested in others' needs. Then you will realise that all that matters is what __**you**__ want and what it must take to achieve that. You think you are the first to make this wish? I've seen it happen countless times. The result is always the same, as it will be for you._

"You're wrong, I will be different, you'll see," Andrea insisted.

The mocking laughter stayed even as the creature slipped away, his last words resonating in her mind.

_You have already proven you are not._

* * *

Andrea stiffened as the creature's final words rung through both hers and Caroline's mind, its recount of the past filling in the details her mind had chosen to repress. The pieces slowly formed a whole, creating a picture she had not entirely expected, one that presented a significant dilemma.

"Leave us." Her sharp command to Caroline clearly startled the spellbound girl so captivated by the tale.

"B-but…what about…"

"Now, Caroline." The persistent pain in Andrea's head made her speak much louder than usual. "I will come see you shortly. There's much that we need to discuss."

Watching just long enough to see the girl met by the palace door guard, she spun around to stare at the shimmering creature. "I did not ask for _this_." Her tone carried chilliest frost.

It stared back at her, un-phased.

_And yet you didn't __**not**__ request__ it either._

"I tire of your deceptions."

_You only have yourself to blame for the clarity of your thoughts that night. I gave that which most matched both your wishes._

"What is it that she asked?"

_You know that's something I cannot reveal. I can but tell you as before _– _you've time until the turning of the moon if you wish to confront her with the error of her ways._

"The full moon is tomorrow. You leave me little chance to persuade my other child that my chosen path is the one that she should take."

_Persuading her is not your only option._

"I'm well aware of that. You've put me in a situation not entirely to my taste. I cannot allow either of them to continue as they are. Their feelings are like having my heart returned, something I see now you had planned on all along. They have little control; every moment I spend with them rings in my mind as an ache. I can't rely on being able to keep them drugged; which means just one choice – make them as I am."

_While you can acquire them from her by force, they can't be forced to be as you are. That is a choice they must make for themselves._

"Do not concern yourself with that. Just be here tomorrow night. Either way, this will all come to an end."

_Are you prepared for that? Will you truly be able to complete the act?_

For the first time in over two centuries, Andrea felt the touch of hesitation score her mind, the feeling instantly trailing revulsion in its wake. Already, they – her treacherous heart – were weakening her, causing emotion to sow its ugly seed of doubt.

Pushing every trace of it away, she murmured, "Of course, I will. By the time that moon is full, they will be mine." Her gaze hardened, "or they will be dead."


	19. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

* * *

"**If you must hold yourself up to your children as an object lesson, hold yourself up as a warning and not as an example."** – George Bernard Shaw

* * *

**Realm – Ashadrield & Kaledran – Present Time**

Caroline sat huddled on the floor, knees tucked under her chin, arms tightly wound around them. She'd made herself as small as possible, all in a futile hope that this act could render her invisible, allowing her to truly disappear. Then nothing and no-one could find her – not the woman who inspired such conflicting feelings; not the truth – which inspired anything but; most of all – not even the pain trying its best to hook its way inside her heart.

She searched the eyes that watched her from the mirror – the warmth of brown subdued by layers of ice; cold and impassive, yet as she'd found in the short time that she'd spent with their enigmatic owner, never passing judgement. The woman clearly didn't feel the need to speak, content to examine Caroline's reflection in the mirror, just as Caroline's gaze measured the brunette in turn. Seeing their faces, almost side by side, had made Caroline note things she could no longer deny. The similarities were there – not quite identical – but there, right down to the colour of their eyes that were both the same, yet nothing alike.

"W-who are you, really?" She chose to be the first to broach the silence.

"You know the answer to that."

"Why don't you tell me anyway?" Caroline whispered, unwilling to voice the truth, still hoping deep down inside that she was wrong.

"I am Andrea, the White Queen, ruler of Ashadriel."

She stopped, Caroline feeling a flicker of relief. She almost let out a giddy laugh at just how wrong she'd been.

"Your mother," the woman concluded; the cold smile coming to her lips an indicator the pause had been entirely deliberate, used to garner utmost effect.

The laughter threatened still, this time tinged by a hint of panic. As always, Caroline reverted to her usual method of defence – attack, determined to find a way to get a rise out of this impenetrable woman. "One _mother _is enough, what makes you think I need a fuck-up for another?" Despite the words not being recognised, Caroline saw their meaning had been absorbed. In anticipation, she waited for the blow-up.

It didn't come; Andrea's gaze remaining as serene as if they'd been sharing afternoon tea. "Is she really enough though, Caroline? Not from the stories that the two of you have told me. It doesn't sound to me as though she cares at all, something that I thought would've been made crystal clear by yesterday's events, not to mention everything you heard just now." The attack returned to her in spades, the girl no match for the monarch well versed in humankind.

"I've already told you – she loves us. Just because she isn't good at showing it doesn't mean that love's not there."

Andrea's laugh was colder than the winter outside. "Yes, I'm familiar with the so called love that she _allegedly_ conceals. The question is – does she really hide whatever she feels inside or do you simply choose to see what isn't there?"

"It's there!" Caroline shouted, unwilling to consider the alternative.

"Had I been speaking to your sister in your place, I might've entertained the idea that it's true. After all, she did take her; the same cannot be said of you. Do not saddle Miranda with imagined feelings that you wish she'd carry; that was my lapse in judgment, don't make the same absurd mistake."

"The only one who's wrong is you, and you know what sucks - you don't even bloody know it," Caroline spat out bitterly, years of anger and resentment bubbling to the fore. "She still carries that stupid pendant that you gave her; she guards it like some fucking priceless gem! I'd bet you anything she holds it every night. You think she left you? That she never loved you? She loves you ten times more than what she feels for us!"

Caroline saw the woman (she refused to call her mother) pale, her hand clutching her head again in pain, as she'd already done so many times before. Looking in the mirror, she could easily discern the torture in those eyes. Whatever this thing that existed between the two of them, the woman certainly bore the impact of its toll.

_Good_.

The thought was instantaneous, Caroline almost immediately horrified that the desire to see a human being in pain should sit so easily with her.

"Enough of fantasies," the queen forced out through gritted teeth, "her actions have always shown me the truth and they should do the same for you. I'll leave you to contemplate why she decided to take your sister and when you finally accept the facts, then let me warn you, the pain will truly start. And when you realise how worthless she has always made you feel – oh yes I know how very good she is at that; when all you discern is the agony of knowing that you're not enough; when you acknowledge that everything you thought was real is a lie – then you should think on something else. What it'd be like to truly not care – like her, to feel nothing at all; to hold the power to discard all that would stand between you and the things you most desire. I've been where you are, I've felt your devastation…" The queen paused for a moment, massaging her temples with her hands.

Even without the benefit of Andrea's story, despite the layer of ice within those eyes, Caroline could see the truth behind her words. The honesty set off a barrage of shivers, coldness at last imbedding talons inside her chest.

"Caroline, I can show you so many things; all that you need to do is open your eyes. When you're ready to accept what you can be, come see me, I'll be waiting."

With that Andrea departed, leaving Caroline alone with her thoughts.

* * *

Cassidy awoke to an intent licking of her face. "Patricia, stop. Seriously, stop it!" She pushed the dog away, hearing a yowl too high pitched to be their St Bernard. Slowly blinking her eyes open she encountered malevolent green ones staring into her own. Its owner – a cat – lifted its paw, slowly unsheathing its claws, its eyes trained on her face.

"H-hey, where'd you come from?" Taking in the cat's ochre black spotted coat, she realised it was like no cat she'd ever seen, yet clearly well-groomed, its owner likely nearby. "You're awfully pretty, you know. I wonder who you belong to."

The cat's rumble conveyed both pleasure and indignation.

"Oh, I get it. You're not anyone's pet, right?" She teased, happy to regain her usual cheerful demeanour.

The cat flicked its tail in approval of her comments, jumping down lightly off the bed. It trotted to the door then turned its head to gaze back toward Cassidy, staring with intent until she was forced to say, "What? What do you want?" She briefly wondered if she was truly talking to a cat and whether that was the final sign that she had actually gone mad. Her memories were hazy and as the cat yowled again she realised, given everything that'd happened, she was probably just as well following a cat as anything else.

Leaving the bed she noted that she was almost fully clothed still, pondering why she had forgotten to undress. Walking over to the door she jiggled the doorknob, pleasantly surprised when it easily twisted open. Stepping into the corridor, she was immediately overwhelmed by the differences between this place and her prior accommodation. Vibrant colours jumped out at her, rich warm hues covering every surface. Her feet sunk into a carpet so plush that Cassidy was sure she could have spent the night resting on it, rather than a bed. Red was the predominant colour here, heralding its owner's proclivity for passion.

She trailed her fingertips along the wall, even as walking she examined the massive portraits that hung on them; the women in them unfamiliar but quite the same – dignified, stately, regal. In many the artist had captured outward malice, but here and there appeared a little more: a twinkle rather than a glare; a smile not a grimace; teasing mischief instead of cruelty. Walking over to the last portrait she gawked, knowing its subject had permeated her dreams all through the night. Her midnight hair spilled over her shoulders, patrician features holding timeless beauty, the green eyes so similar to those of the cat that trotted alongside.

"Ouch!" She hopped in place balancing on one foot; her hand gingerly rubbing the ankle where she'd just been swiped by that very cat's sharp claws. She glared down at it, her stare returned twofold, the meow indicating she'd dawdled long enough. It flicked its tail towards the door at the end of the corridor as though insisting that they reach their destination with more speed.

"Alright alright," Cassidy grumbled, "there was no need to hurt me you know."

The incredulous stare informed her that the cat felt otherwise.

This game went on for several minutes as they continued to proceed along; Cassidy awed by the grandeur of the palace, pausing to look at things which caught her eye. A swipe of the claws remained her reward for all the frequent interludes until she was certain her ankle resembled a cut of rare meat. At last they reached a door which had the cat scrambling back and forth in front of it, clearly eager to go inside."Come on then, let's see where you've led us." She swung open the door, a blur streaking between her legs to run ahead of her. Looking around she saw that they were in the kitchen which was a rather good place to be given her stomach chose that very moment to emit a loud growl."Wow, smart as well as pretty." She gave the cat, who'd settled on the counter, a quick affectionate rub behind the ear, not ever thinking it would not be well received. She heard a hiss, glancing down to see its eyes narrowed in silent warning, ears flat. "Okay okay, I get it. I won't pet you again. Jeez…"

The kitchen's immediate inspection rustled up some bread and jars of honey. Cassidy was far too hungry to look for anything more substantial so poured the gooey liquid right onto the torn off hunk of bread. "Mmm…" she mumbled in enjoyment, the sweet doughy mess practically melting in her mouth. As she licked her sticky fingers, she saw the cat scoot closer, eyeing the goo with interest. "No way," Cassidy laughed, "Are you serious?" Wanting to test her theory she dipped her finger in the jar of honey, extending the digit out slowly, ready to pull back at a moment's notice. Instinctively, her eyes closed in fear of the pain that was surely bound to come at any moment.

She waited, and waited, but it never came.

Instead she felt the rough pad of a tongue gently brush its way around her finger, licking the digit until there appeared nothing left. She opened her eyes, encountering an expectant gaze. Grinning, she poured some more honey onto the chunk of bread, pushing it towards the cat. Eyeing this new offer disdainfully, its glare clearly conveyed disgust at the new method of feeding, its paw flicking out to push the bread away. "Okay, you're totally spoiled, you know that, right?" The finger dipped into the jar again, the cat leaping over the piece of bread to eagerly sidle closer. Happily munching on her own fare, she watched it lick her finger clean again.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The voice blasted across the room, badly startling an unsuspecting Cassidy. Her head shot up, taking in the irritated woman in front of her, one instantly recognisable from both portrait and her dreams. She was even prettier in person, but currently, also far more filled with rage.

"I-I'm sorry," Cassidy stuttered, "I didn't mean to just help myself. I was really hungry and…"

"Oh, as if I care about you and whatever pitiful amount of food you're likely to consume! No, I'm referring to my cat and you apparent desire to put it in an early grave."

"W-what? No!" Cassidy was horrified by the thought that her actions would lead to the demise of any living thing, especially one as distinctive as this animal. "I was just…it wanted to…and it made me…"

"Yes, yes, I am sure. He forced you to give him honey? Next you'll be telling me he was talking to you as well!" The woman rolled her eyes, walking over to inspect the cat as one might do a recalcitrant child, picking it up to hold it to her chest. She crooned, "There there…I'm sorry I left you alone with her. I won't make that same mistake again."

Cassidy watched the cat start up a purr, rumbling its contentment as it received adoring scratches behind his ears. _Traitor_, she told him silently in no uncertain terms. Gazing at her smugly, its eyes conveyed he was well aware whom it was smarter to throw his lot in with, that person not being her. In truth, Cassidy really couldn't blame him.

Sighing, she asked, "Umm, I know we just got off to the worst of starts but I wonder if you could help me? You see, I'm not entirely sure where I am."

The woman rolled her eyes again. "Honestly, I am fairly certain that both of you are more trouble than you're worth. Throw in your bloody mother, and I swear, your entire family will be the death of me as yet."

"B-both of us, you mean Caro is here? Where is she?"

The woman instantly looked chagrined, "No, your sister isn't here, but your mother is. It's probably for the best to take you to her now. Quite clearly you don't function well when left to your own devices."

"I was doing just fine before you came along!" Cassidy exclaimed in indignation, pride rearing its head.

"Oh that _is_ rich! Yes, you were grand; held under lock and key, drugged up to your eyeballs. What a fine time you must've been having, how dare I interrupt it - what's that, Elnora?" The woman seemed to have started speaking to herself. "Thank you? But why - no need to thank little old me, after all, I was simply doing my job. Apparently that's what it is these days – rescuing ungrateful idiots from the clutches of older, even greater idiots."

Lost, Cassidy was only certain that the woman was likely right to tag her as ungrateful. She wasn't sure of what had happened but one thing was clear – this place was nicer than the stark run down structure where she'd been before. "You're right, I'm really sorry. I haven't thanked you and I know it must have been a chore to have to come and get me. So...um…thank you." She gave the woman, whose name was apparently Elnora, her most dazzling smile.

The woman appeared slightly mollified. "Yes, well, I suppose I did what needed to be done, as I always do, of course." Her last comment was more of an aside. "Now, I should let you see your mother – for we have very little time to waste."

* * *

With hesitation Caroline strolled out into the garden, immediately blinded by white which stretched as far as she could see. She was completely startled by the stillness of the place, its silence unbroken by a shuffle or a chirp. Wincing as her footsteps crunched loudly in the quiet, an apology sprung to her lips even though she wasn't sure to whom she should address it. Her fingers gathered clumps of snowflakes, as trailing her hand along the bushes, she advanced in further.

Sitting so still by the fountain ahead of her, Caroline noted the woman's face was as blank in repose as any other time. The girl's feet slowed, involuntarily conveying her uncertainty. She decided to hang back and observe this woman who called herself her mother. Beautiful, of course, just like her real mother, she did appear far younger. Her face unmarred by so much as a wrinkle, her pale countenance showed no indication of her age. She'd overheard the guards talking about Andrea's rule being never ending and this confused her. How could she possibly be queen so long yet barely look out of her twenties? Getting back to her examination, she noted her chestnut hair hung past her shoulders, curling loosely at the bottom. The pale lips untouched by make-up now almost blended with the pallor of her face.

"Come closer, I do not bite."

"Yeah, I'm fine over here."

"Then suit yourself," Andrea shrugged.

They both chose to observe the setting of the sun, the peaceful quiet washing over them. The dying rays shone weakly through the tree line, causing a dappling effect across the snow. Watching the light, Caroline was mesmerised by the beauty of this silence. At home the quiet was oppressive – either a sign of some latest misdemeanour or an accusation from Cassidy that yet again Caroline wasn't interested in her prattle. This silence soothed and comforted, bringing contentment to its occupants. Without knowing how, Caroline was certain that this was where the queen passed most of her time.

"T-tell me something about yourself?" She immediately regretted having voiced the question, destroying the very thing that she had just admired.

The woman slowly turned to face her, "What would you like to know?"

Tentatively, Caroline scooted to perch on a bench a couple of feet away. "I don't know. This place is just so different. There must be loads of stories to tell."

"Caroline, are there people where you come from?"

Startled by the utterly bizarre nature of the question, she blurted out, "Of course!"

Andrea nodded, "Then you would be surprised by just how little difference exists between our worlds. People's natures are the same wherever you go. That is a concept that has taken me much time to grasp. It's one of the many things I want to teach you."

"Studying isn't really my thing," Caroline grumbled, expecting to hear the usual reprimand of how good grades led to a great career.

"Yes, it wasn't mine either when I was growing up. I spent more time out here than studying my books. Sometimes I think my tutors despaired of teaching me a single thing."

A flicker of warmth bloomed at this unexpected tolerance, Caroline ruthlessly suppressing it before it spread. This woman was not her friend, it didn't matter what she thought. Bitter sarcasm coated her voice, "Yeah, I am pretty sure that being a princess was real tough. What a struggle to grow up in this hovel, everyone waiting on you hand and foot, fulfilling your every whim. It must've been a drag."

Andrea's searching gaze never left Caroline's face, even as silence descended between them once again. Kicking the bench in anger, the young girl lowered her eyes to stare at the snow.

Andrea was the one to break the silence this time. "Well, actually, it was. But I think you know that very well now, don't you, Caroline? Isn't that how you have always felt? You look around at everything you have and you acknowledge that you should be happy. After all, you want for nothing, don't you? Time passes and the doubts creep in – do they like you for you, or what you give them? You start to tire of no-one disagreeing with you, act out, hoping for a harsh word to be said. It never is, of course, because it's _you_, and it can't possibly be your fault. You watch your mother get rid of friends you've always known because they're no longer suitable company for yourself. Gradually, you realise there's no-one left and then at last you see how truly lonely this life is. You turn to your mother; she'll be there to comfort you, to tell you everything will be alright. But what a surprise – she isn't there; she's never there because you don't come first. Everything she does is for herself alone; so slowly you peel back another truth – the trappings of wealth are simply that – they're meant to free you but they merely fence you in. With their help, the world's not closer, only but farther pushed away. That's when you finally admit you hate it, you truly lash out, no longer just an act. But you keep being punished because she doesn't 'see' you, can never understand the thing you want. And that's when crippling fear overwhelms you – what if no-one will ever see you for who you are? What if you spend your whole life trying and no-one understands what lies inside?"

Andrea paused and Caroline felt the breeze cooling the dampness on her cheeks – involuntary tears at the starkness of those words.

"I look at you and see myself; you'll never have to fight to make me understand. The hatred, the loneliness, the fear – allow me, and I'll take them all away. This," Andrea flicked her hand, the snow swirling off the ground at her command, floating down to Caroline's feet, "can be yours. You only have to say the word."

"H-how?"

"Simply make a wish."

"A wish?" Caroline's scepticism returned full force. "Yeah, okay. And then what, a magic genie pops out and grants me whatever my heart desires? Because that's meant to happen before you make the wish. Next time, try getting your bloody story straight!"

She jumped up, angry at herself for feeling close to someone who was good at spinning bullshit that hit a little close to home.

"You can't hide from me, Caroline, you'll never need to. If I was _her_, wouldn't there be a lecture on the way right now? On propriety, your manners, or should I say, your lack of them; and through it all, those eyes – examining, judging, deeming you to be lacking in every way. Isn't that the truth of things?"

Caroline swallowed past the lump rising in her throat, poised to lie.

"Never mind, I bear the brunt of your pain from here just as I bore the brunt of mine, countless times before. You forget how well I've known your mother, how often her speeches were aimed at me. You'll never disappoint me, Caroline, and unlike her – when you ready – I'll always be here, ready to accept you for who you are."

Content to have said her piece, the queen trained her gaze on the horizon once again. Caroline battled the urge to run and bury herself within her arms, bask in the warm glow of acceptance. Her feet rose to take a step, Caroline halting them at the last possible moment. She made to turn around and walk away – Andrea's pull so strong she felt she walked against a gale force wind.

She missed the cold smile of triumph that graced the monarch's lips and her quiet sigh of satisfaction as the comfort of the silence descended everywhere once more.

* * *

Cassidy felt everything catch up with her at once as she caught sight of her mother's familiar figure. Tears streamed down her face as she was met by outstretched arms, the safety of a bone crushing hug. "Everything is alright, bobbsey, sshh…don't cry."

"Y-you're okay. I-I was so scared. And t-then I couldn't find Caroline. And t-then," she hiccupped, "I was so tired, and I kept having these weird dreams. You were there but it wasn't you somehow. You kept telling me stories but every one of them was about you. They weren't all that nice either," her voice shook pitifully.

A snort came from behind her, "Yes, isn't it amazing how ugly the truth can be?"

Raising her eyes, she caught the look of utter contempt her mother flung towards the woman.

The snort was louder this time, "Oh, I _am _sorry. I just couldn't help but get carried away by this tender moment where the _mother_ finds her long lost child and they all live happily ever after. Do let me know when you are done with this now, won't you? I fear more of it might make me lose my lunch."

As she nestled deeper into her mother's warm embrace, she heard the sound of retreating footsteps. The silence settled between them, nervous exhaustion almost lulling her to sleep. Eventually she roused herself enough to ask, "Mum, where's Caroline?"

She felt a shudder shake her mother's body. "I am sorry, bobbsey. Elnora only had time to get one of you out and you were the easiest to grab. I wanted to go back but she forc…convinced me that it was in my best interests to leave your sister where she is for now. The queen won't hurt her, Cassidy, don't worry about that."

"Y-you left her? With t-that woman?" Cassidy tore herself out of her mother's arms, accusation evident in her stance.

"Do you think I wanted to?" Customary coolness dawned, her mother's eyes signalling a hint of rising irritation. "I would have never left your sister if I'd had a choice."

"There's always a choice!" Cassidy shouted, her eyes flashing her own anger.

Almost at once, her mother's ire deflated, deep sadness overriding every other feeling in her eyes. "You are so like her now," she whispered, "it's like every day I am confronted by the past."

"W-who? W-what are you talking about?"

Miranda braced herself by taking a deep breath, "Your mother."

"You mean you?" Cassidy was confused. Her mother was making little sense and it couldn't possibly be a good thing she'd started talking in the third person.

"No, not me, I mean your _real_ mother."

Cassidy recoiled from words that landed like a blow. "Real mother – what do you mean? Mum, did you hit your head? You went down pretty hard back at the house; we'll take you to the hospital, you obviously need a doctor…"

"Cassidy." That one word was enough to bring her ramble to a halt, given that for once her mother chose to raise her voice. "Stop, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me, other than the lies I've perpetrated since the day you and your sister came into the world."

"N-no," Cassidy physically backed away as if that could help evade the truth. "I don't know why but you're lying to me! Is it that woman? The one that just left? Or the one at the other palace – the queen? Which one of them is making you say these things? Wait," suddenly inspiration struck, "this is just a dream, isn't it? I am still back at that place, none of this is real." She pinched herself, "Come on, wake up, goddamn it, wake up!"

"Cassidy, language." Her mother's rebuke effectively halted her actions, as real as any reprimand she'd have received outside a dream world. "I wish I could tell you this was all a dream – a nightmare actually – but I can't. It's time you knew who I am, moreover, who you truly are."

"You are our mother," Cassidy insisted firmly, "you always will be."

She saw her mother's eyes turn glassy, the film of tears creating a shimmering blue. "Nothing would make me happier than to believe that that is true. Alas, it's not, and no amount of wishing in the world will ever change _that_. In fact," she sighed, "wishing is exactly why we're here in the first place."

The words echoed some distant memory in Cassidy's mind. "Hang on, I heard you say that once before, yesterday, during the story."

Miranda frowned, "I don't think so."

"No, you have." Cassidy's memories crystallised in her mind, "when it was you and yet it wasn't. I asked you if I could stay in bed, have waffles, then begged you for a story."

Her mother straightened, "That wasn't me. How certain are you that you were awake?"

Cassidy frowned in concentration, "Well, not entirely. You made me drink something, I was really thirsty and you had me lie down, and you told me about," she frowned again, "someone named Miranda and Andrea. It was so sad – they were in love, or at least Andrea thought they were. Then it all went wrong, Andrea's mother died that night and she counted on Miranda being there but Miranda left and so devastated, Andrea made a wish. She wished that this thing would take her heart so that she would never have to feel such pain again..."

A choked gasp broke Cassidy's concentration, her eyes flashing to her mother's face only to see her bring her hand up to bite the knuckle of her finger, tears spilling over to roll down her cheeks.

"Mum? Are you okay? What's wrong? Why…" Thinking about the names made the rest of the questioning redundant. "It isn't just a story, is it?"

Her mother silently shook her head, clearly trying to bring herself under control. Her eyes fluttered shut, ragged gasps escaping her lips. Watching her attempt not to fall apart, displaying more emotion that she'd seen in the last eight years combined, Cassidy faced the possibility that whatever she was telling her was true. Looking back over her years in Washington, replaying Andrea's story, another piece of the puzzle fell in place. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers over the pendant hanging around Miranda's neck, "_You_ talked about the pendant, too. This is it, isn't it?" She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry. "The story, the Miranda in the story, it's you. Y-you left her," she moistened her lips, "Just like Caroline."

The accusation hung between them, distancing them as surely as if they'd walked apart. Cassidy took Miranda's silence as acceptance of her guilt. Fresh tears spilling from her eyes, she acknowledged why her mother hadn't chosen to reveal the truth, bitterness rising to replace the tears. "I should've listened to her, Caroline's tried to tell me this so many times. I've always defended you, I always took your side! But I guess more fool me, huh? Because you're everything that you pretend to be, aren't you, _mother_?"

The formality and the disdain in the title made Miranda's teeth clench hard enough to break the skin around her knuckle, spots of blood welling up to fleck around her mouth. Cassidy instantly felt pity well up within her, a feeling she ruthlessly suppressed. Again, her mind rapidly flicked through the story, recounting every memory of her time with the White Queen.

Then, just like her favourite jigsaws, she assembled the facts:

_Her mother's prior relationship with the queen._

_The father that their mother had never talked about._

_Her mother professing that the woman would never hurt Caroline._

_Her mother's curious statement about Cassidy resembling someone else, someone she'd known in the past._

_The connection with the woman they had seen so many times, not knowing up till now who she truly was._

The pieces formed into a picture too impossible to believe. "It's her, isn't it?" Her voice conveyed utter disbelief. "The queen. Andrea. She's our real mother."

The anguished "Yes" that fell from blood stained lips tilted Cassidy's world sideways as surely as if the ground tilted underneath her feet. She wanted to shout, rail; call her mother ugly names. She wanted to run back to Washington, back to the world where none of this was true, where queens and lies did not exist and Cassidy lived out her life in blissful ignorance – content only with meagre worries like Jeffrey asking her to dance.

She turned away, the bitter words easily rising to her lips, when one last fact assailed her mind.

_Her mother's possessiveness towards the pendant, her almost slavish devotion to it._

Instantly her mind brought up the incident from seven years ago, her mother's bizarre actions that day when Caroline had tried to take the pendant. She hesitated as all the pieces coalesced into one truth, intended cruel words dying slowly in her throat. She spun again, her tone conveying her newly gained knowledge, "You left her but you never stopped loving her. That's why you've never let go of it, never let us touch it. It was your one connection and you were scared – that if broken, the only piece you held of her would be forever gone."

"_You are so like her now; it's like every day I am confronted by the past."_

Now Cassidy truly understood the painful truth behind the words. "You see her every day you look at us. That's why I've seen the pain in your eyes, when you let the mask drop, when you think that neither of us sees. I never knew why but now I do. You've always regretted it, haven't you, but every day you're confronted by your mistake. That's why you work so much - to stay away? It must be agony," Cassidy moved closer, embracing her mother once again, this time the one offering comfort where needed, "not to be able to move on, unable to forgive yourself, reliving it all time and time again? I'm so sorry," Cassidy stroked her mother's hair lovingly, "I'm so sorry you've had to go through that."

She felt her mother's kneeling body shudder, both arms convulsively locking round Cassidy's waist, the wracking sobs at last being uttered without restraint. She felt her own tears fall again: for herself, for Caroline, for her mother; and most of all, for the mother she had never known – who'd never known, in turn, how fervently she was true loved.

Cassidy waited till the sobs had quietened, gently stroking her mother's back. When she was sure the woman would be able to speak, she whispered with the idealism of youth, "We can fix this. We'll go together, we'll make her understand. It's going to take a while but in time she will forgive you. _We_ always have. You might have to be a little nicer to her than you used to," her chuckle was watery, "probably have to buy her a lot of stuff. But you know…yourself…don't get an Emily to get it for her. It doesn't mean as much when someone else picks it out." The admonishment was gentle, Cassidy trying to both soothe and instruct. "Anyways, I mean…yeah, she's probably with someone else, it's been ages, but you never know, maybe…" Cassidy trailed off, even her own optimism not strong enough to continue with that train of thought.

"I love you, Cassidy." For once Miranda's eyes clearly reflected that fact. "I haven't told you that enough, either of you, but especially Caroline. She's always fought me so hard, shut down so quickly at every slight. You're just as your mother was at your age, but Caroline – she's much more like me than she'd care to admit. It's why we've never seen eye to eye – far too far alike. Our instinct is to hide, to protect ourselves from pain and hurt, and so we've always lashed out – hurting others before they hurt us first. Never forget who you are right now, what you are, Cassidy. Never ever lose sight of that. People will punish you for it, try and tell you your feelings are a weakness; do not listen, don't ever listen to people like me." Her mother's eyes took on an almost feverish glint, her arms wrapped around Cassidy's shoulders. "I've rejected my emotions before, now all of you pay the price. Whatever happens tomorrow, promise me that you'll remember the lessons in my mistakes, that you'll make your sister see them too."

Cassidy felt fear settle in the pit of her stomach, her mother's words holding a ring of inevitability. "W-what happens tomorrow? W-why can't you speak to Caroline yourself?"

Her mother's smile held infinite sadness, "Because tomorrow night the conditions of _my_ wish expire; my time with you is up."


	20. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

* * *

"**Conscience doesn't always keep you from doing wrong, but it does keep you from enjoying it****." – **Henry Mencken

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Just over 240 years ago – Andrea's 25****th**** Birthday**

"Stop," Miranda commanded hoarsely. The carriage barely ground to a halt before she stumbled out. Leaning against the tree, she gulped fresh air into her lungs, refusing to lose the final measure of control that she had left.

"Are you alright, counsellor?" The driver jumped down, approaching her carefully. Seeing that she was trying not to part with the contents of her stomach, he patted her arm in sympathy.

"Was there a point I gave permission for you to touch me? What next – a marriage proposal?"

"B-begging your pardon, counsellor," the young man, boy really, stammered. "I just thought…"

"I don't recall paying you to think, only to do your job. Something you're clearly woefully incapable of given the general state of your attire." She looked him up and down disdainfully, watching the flush spread up his neck, his eyes lowering to the ground in embarrassment. Feeling her own flash of shame, she acknowledged he didn't deserve to be the target of her anger. She opened her mouth to apologise when suddenly remembering his manners, he whipped his cap off to reveal a head of hair that flopped to hide his face; brown eyes tentatively meeting hers, conveying mute regret.

Pain lanced Miranda's heart, this contrite boy reminding her of Andrea; his awkward actions mirroring so many apologies given by the girl that she'd just walked away from.

_Whose gauche clumsy sweet tender apologies, I won't see again._

That thought proved push enough, her iron will overcome by the tumult of emotions, all dignity lost as her stomach finally heaved.

"L-let me help you," the boy tried again, his eyes shining with pity.

She recoiled from it as surely as she drew back from him. The pity leapt out at her, seeped through her skin, infused the very marrow of her bones. "Don't touch me," her voice was frigid. "In fact, get back in that carriage and leave."

"Counsellor, it is some distance to Makesh. It's late, I can't allow you to be out here alone."

"_You_ cannot allow _me_?"

"W-well, it's just…" his voice petered out at the look in Miranda's eyes.

"That's what I thought." Miranda turned away, unable to bear looking at him any longer. She knew it was a sign of weakness but she told herself this one time she would allow an indulgence of cowardly emotion.

_Just one time? I think a little more than that tonight._

Gritting her teeth, she ignored her own voice. "Well, don't just stand there. If I beat you to Makesh, I can assure you, you won't be getting any coin."

Having said the magic words, she heard the scamper of feet as the boy raced to jump onto the carriage, spurring on the horses with a cry. Overtaken almost immediately, she soon heard the sound of hoof beats fade away into the distance.

The silence left her alone with her thoughts, her mind constantly replaying tonight's events. She saw Andrea's face over and over – first as she broke her heart, then as she'd been when she rejoined the festivities. Miranda had almost gone to her, had near stood up out of the chair, Andrea's state willing her to abandon her charade, forget the pretence of no feelings beyond coveting that which she could never hope to possess.

Elnora's ploy had ended that.

Even now Miranda could only marvel at the skill that it'd taken to accomplish such deception. The part of herself she loathed felt admiration – respect for an execution of a perfect plan; all of them pieces on a chessboard the Black Queen had manoeuvred at her will. Another part of her felt anguish; pain that worsened the further she moved from the castle walls. It begged her to return; if indulged, its pull more than Miranda had the strength to counter. Instead she focused on the part that had shut down, one that felt nothing other than the steady beat of purpose – regroup, plan, rebuild again – lose herself within a job she loved. The words became a mantra in her mind, echoing with every step she took towards her destination. She would rise again, reclaim her name, then gain revenge – no-one would dare to cross Miranda Priestly ever again.

* * *

"As I say, the rooms are taken." The innkeeper stared at Miranda, not even having the decency to lie well.

"All of them?" Her tone was chilly.

"Yeah. All of 'em." The woman's words were followed by a snigger to the right of her, the man immediately burying his face in a mug of ale.

Miranda gritted her teeth, "Then I will take my business elsewhere."

"Something tells me those rooms'll be occupied'n'all." The brazen tone elicited more sniggers, several patrons not bothering to hide their grins.

Miranda felt a hint of pink bloom in her cheeks. Embarrassment was rare. And most unwelcome. "You underestimate the lure of coin."

This time the tone was angry, "Can't say the same of you though, can I, _counsellor_? Oh wait, I guess she ain't that after tonight, now is she, boys?"

The rousing chorus of 'Nay' rose in the air.

"That's right, word travels fast around 'ere. So you can keep your coin, ain't no-one around these parts going to accept it, not even that poor beggar that sits across the street. So I'd suggest you leave…before the boys here decide to make you."

The looks she was receiving convinced Miranda not to linger. Stepping outside, she stopped beside the carriage, exhaling slowly, for once unsure of what to do.

"I'm sorry." The nearby quiet voice completely startled her. She saw the boy step out of the shadows.

"Come for your payment?"

He shook his head, "You heard. I can't afford to take your money. I'll not be labelled a traitor like yourself."

"I am not a traitor." Miranda clenched her teeth so hard she thought that they would shatter.

"Doesn't matter. After tonight, everyone believes you are."

"Then why offer to drive me?"

The boy blushed. "I make deliveries to the palace all the time. Her Highness," he blushed even harder, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, "she's always been very nice to me. I seen…I mean…I saw her one time with you, I can tell she liked you. Figured I owed you a kindness in lieu of that."

_That boy is more than you will ever be._

Miranda pushed her thoughts away. "Don't be an idiot. Here." She thrust payment towards him. "No-one will know it came from me."

Hesitantly, the boy reached out to grab the coin. A backhanded slap sent him reeling before his hand ever reached Miranda's. A burly man said gruffly, "Nathaniel, get back into the house this instant. I'll deal with you later."

The boy cowered, crawling backwards in fear until he jumped up, disappearing round the corner.

"Only a coward would raise his hand to someone smaller," Miranda's tone was quiet but it conveyed her anger and disgust. "Perhaps you'd care to pit yourself against someone a little closer to your size?"

"I don't see anyone that's worthy of my time." The man's disgust was equally as evident. "As we've already said, I would suggest you take your leave."

"I owe him payment for services rendered," Miranda nodded towards the corner where the boy had disappeared.

"Don't worry, he'll get his dues tonight." The man fingered his belt suggestively.

"I strongly urge you rethink that."

"Or what? What do you plan to do? Stop me yourself? Drag me to court? Inform the queen? You're nothing, _counsellor_. You'll never be anything around these parts again. I'd keep your coin if I was you, you'll have more need of it than we will." With that he spat on the ground beside Miranda's feet, walking away towards the bustle of the inn.

* * *

_My my, how the mighty have fallen._

She looked around, wondering if hours of aimless wandering had made her hear voices inside her head. Well, at the very least they'd keep her company.

_I never thought you'd sink so low as to indulge in maudlin self pity._

No matter how bad she felt, Miranda would not be mocked even by something that wasn't real. "As if you know anything about me."

_You'd be surprised. There's nothing you can hide._

"Care to test that theory?"

_You cannot outsmart me but I'm amused that you would care to try._

"Who are you?" She didn't hide the irritation that she felt. She was exhausted, sore and in no mood for childish games.

_Someone who can give you what you want._

Miranda snorted, "You can turn back time? Why didn't you say so quicker?"

_No, even that's beyond my powers. Also irrelevant; we both know that is not your wish._

"I leave the wishing to fools."

_Oh, I don't think so. Even the great Miranda Priestly longs for things that she can't have._

Miranda stopped. "How can you know what I may want tonight?"

_I hear your thoughts as you can hear my voice inside your mind._

"Have you been following me?"

_Why would I need to? I am everywhere – at any time and any place._

"Impossible."

_More things are possible than you would care to think. One simply has to want them bad enough._

"Like what?"

_Oh, I don't know. Say like destroying someone's life._

Miranda stiffened, "What exactly do you mean?"

_Just that at times, even queens require a little help to reach their goals._

Understanding was immediate, "The foul scheme was yours?"

_I cannot reveal that. All I can say is that I came to her and offered up the perfect means. All that she had to do was see it through to its conclusion._

"I don't know which one of you is worse." Miranda resumed her weary pace. "Leave." She stared resolutely ahead.

_Are you certain?_

"I won't lower myself to Elnora's level. Or to yours."

_Oh, you will have to lower yourself, alright. After tonight, few luxuries will be afforded to you._

Miranda hesitated, "Things change. In time I will have again what I…" her voice caught on the bitterness of grief, "had."

_Your optimism is admirable. After all, you saw first hand tonight how others see you now. Perhaps you hope to return, to throw yourself at Andrea's mercy, beg her for protection?_

Miranda's mouth tightened, "That you would even ask that shows that you know nothing."

_I merely wanted to verify. This __**new**__ Miranda is not one I'm sure that I care for._

"I'm still the same." The denial was automatic.

_Are you? Your lovesick moping tells me otherwise. Have you forgotten everything you are, all that you've strived for?_

Her wounded pride made her lash out, "What is it that you'd have me do? Have you already forgotten your own words? I'm nothing – actually – I'm less than that. It's time to face the facts and forget the idealism of youth."

_You can still change the world. You can still rise to the top._

"How?"

_I told you. Make a wish._

"And I told you, no matter the cost, I won't stoop to her level."

_Then maybe you will stoop to someone else's._

A chill ghosted over Miranda's spine; an involuntary shiver. "Who do you speak about?"

_Oh, I think you know. Don't tell me you think you are the only one wishing for something different tonight?_

"What have you done?"

_I? Nothing. I don't do anything that __you__ don't want._

Time slowed. "What did she ask for?" Even as she spoke, she wanted to take it back, knowing that not knowing was likely better than the answer that she sought. Her heart pounded in her chest, its beat as heavy as a gong preceding an execution.

_We've been over this. All I can tell you is that there's no need to worry about her feelings for you after tonight._

His cackle split the air as surely as her heart. "I-I don't believe you."

"_No, you just don't want to believe. You dress things up, make them into something they are not. Aren't those your words from earlier tonight? Now who is fooling herself? Did you really think after what you did that she'd have anything to do with you? You are above such self delusions."_

"I-I thought…" Miranda stopped, realising that deep down inside she had known but even as she'd always preached against, in this moment she had lied; sparing herself the bleakness of the truth.

_There's only one thing to think of now – how you can salvage what is left._

Faced with what she could no longer deny, Miranda took a breath, composed herself; hid everything she felt inside. When she was alone, she would let it out, weep for things that she would never have. But now, the time had come to practice her own lessons, to make decisions that allowed her to regain what she'd lost.

She faced the creature calmly. "I want everything I had – position, power, sway. Moreover, I desire wealth – a fortune to rival any I could've ever had."

_Done._

"And I want it now. Not in the years to come."

_Once more – granted._

_Maybe if I had more, then Andrea and I_…The curl of treacherous emotion refused to die. The flash of it blinded her mind, just as something glinting in the creature's grasp blinded her eyes as it reflected moonlight. She strained her eyes to see it, her heart cracking open again – carefully hidden emotion spilling forth.

The pendant winked at her, the glass glowing in the light, calling to her as if it spoke her name.

"W-what are you doing with that?" She whispered hoarsely.

_Well, she no longer has a use for it. A nice little trinket, don't you think? _His tone, her own words, cut to the quick.

"I'd like that. Please." The 'please' was rasping – whether from a throat clogged by emotion or lips unused to forming the word – she didn't know.

_You have no need of it. Let it go as she let go of you._

The words flayed; lashed her heart in a desperate attempt to reach the tiny kernel buried deep inside so that they could smother it in their cruel grasp. But hope dwells within us all and even those who profess that they feel nothing are vulnerable to its tender hook – a hold so strong that once it buries within you, it's near impossible to dislodge.

"I just want something…" she felt her own voice tremble with suppressed emotion, fought to keep tears in check, unwilling to crumble even now. "…of hers to hold, to remember her by."

_Are you certain?_

Acknowledging this to be her worst moment of weakness yet, she couldn't find the strength to overcome it. She tried to force her lips to answer "No" (a part of her mind screamed it) but just as the afternoon she had acquiesced to that dinner invitation, she found herself saying, "Yes."

_Very well. I grant you two hundred and forty years. Two hundred and forty years of power, wealth and sway. Two hundred and forty years with a part of her to hold. But…_

"What? Is it not enough to grant a time? I see that you conveniently left that out."

_You think that wishes don't have stipulations? That it is all sweetness and light? You get your happily ever after, never look back?_

"Fine." Irritation bubbled once again.

_As I was saying BUT once the time is up, you'll have three days. Three days to return what rightfully belongs to her. Three days in which to face what you have done, to pay your dues._

"And then? You'll take it all away?"

His laughter rang again.

_No. There's nothing __**I **__will take from you. You will go back_ – _to the life you chose for yourself._

The laughter subsided.

_So I will ask you one last time – are you certain? Do you understand what you'll be giving up?_

She saw Andrea's face flash through her mind and in that instant she almost turned around. The part of her that yearned to make amends, believed that everything could be alright, tried to assert itself again, sensing that maybe this time it would be enough.

She hesitated.

The creature sighed, concealing the pendant from her sight.

_I am certain this won't go to waste. I won't come to you again. But when you have nothing other than your memories, don't think too hard on what you could've had._

Its words were just enough to tip her logic to the forefront, her mind ruthlessly suppressing fantasies by calculating their odds and coming to the conclusion that they weren't enough. She could gamble on a chance or reach for a sure thing. "I am certain. Do as you will."

The pain hit her then, the agony of a broken heart nothing compared to this. The feeling crushed her chest, holding it in an iron grip. "W-what's happening?" She barely managed to get out. She felt the ground rushing up to meet her, the fall jarring any remaining air from her lungs.

_I told you, there's always a downside._

Hard on the heels of the excruciating pain, almost at the point of passing out, she saw a burst of light – bright colours, pictures that did not make sense, a great big metal contraption with pipes, and wooden pews.

Her mind registered that this was somewhere that she had never been.

This realisation was followed by a baby's cry.

Then all went black.

* * *

Miranda's first and most overwhelming thought was how quickly she could find the mother that couldn't keep her child quiet, followed by the much more satisfactory one of the different ways she could verbally flay the woman to make her leave Miranda's immediate vicinity. The pain pounded in her skull, each cry amplified to the point where her very being was consumed with the high pitched sounds of wailing and screaming. Gritting her teeth, she tried to rise, nausea hitting her almost instantly. Hanging over the edge of something that appeared to be a bench (she couldn't focus her bleary eyes enough to tell) she breathed through her nose, the sickness finally subsiding.

"Is there some part of 'children should be seen and not heard' that is difficult to understand?" She glanced round in exasperation, her eyes adjusting to the light. The room was empty save for Miranda and what looked to be two little bundles responsible for the noise. "Hello? No, really. That's good. Continue to leave your children unattended. That is a wonderful idea and speaks volumes about you."

Her own voice echoed back around her.

Cautiously she approached the blankets, examining the babies. This close, she could tell that the one on the right was the one making the high pitched noise, the one on the left seeming to look right back into Miranda's eyes, staring at her with an equal sense of wonder. As if deeming Miranda to have passed inspection, the baby emitted some sort of gurgling noise and gave a smile. Several moments later Miranda realised that she was smiling back. Immediately she wiped all traces of emotion away, choosing to concentrate on the one less likely to inspire tender feelings. That little face was as red and scrunched up as a shrivelled tomato, the baby's lungs working overtime to make its displeasure known. Gingerly, Miranda picked it up, frowning as she saw the head of red hair so like her own, identical to the little head beside her. Twins, extremely young. What mother would abandon children to the mercies of a stranger?

Bouncing the child around, Miranda whispered nonsense into its ear, the baby quietening at once. In fact, it seemed entranced by her voice, emitting the same little gurgle of what Miranda took to mean happiness as its twin. Almost on cue, as if realising it was being left out of something to enjoy, the one on the bench started to cry. Muttering silent expletives Miranda felt the pounding in her head resume, instinctively picking up the other child to soothe its ire. Summoning memories of a lullaby, she hummed it to both the children now, once again seeing identical pairs of brown eyes look back at her intently.

Brown eyes so like…

She blinked. They were still there. Closing her own, she counted to ten, slowly re-opening them expecting the colour to have changed. It hadn't. Bleakness descended then, her thoughts turning to how long it would be before she truly stopped seeing Andrea in everyone she met.

As if sensing her sadness, a little hand reached out from within the blanket, stretching towards Miranda's face. She looked around, seeing no-one still, and bent down till her cheek connected with the tiny palm. It patted her, almost as if aware of what it was doing and Miranda laughed. She didn't realise the laughter mixed with tears until she saw the moisture hit the baby's cheek. Clearly displeased by this event, its face scrunched up again, bursting into a fresh round of wails.

Miranda rolled her eyes. _Of course, too good to last._

"Mrs Priestly! I mean, Senator Priestly," a voice cut across the screaming, a man in strange black clothes slipping through the door. "Oh good, you're awake. I was worried you may have suffered a concussion and lapsed into a coma. I've called for the ambulance of course, and the police should be here any minute."

Miranda frowned at a barrage of unfamiliar words. Perhaps she was in some part of the realm that she had never ventured into. There were many, especially in the Outlands, each of them with their own dialect and mannerisms.

"Who are you? Where am I? More importantly, do you really see fit to leave your children with a total, and according to you, unconscious stranger?" As always, the best defence was an offence.

The man looked taken aback, confusion marring his face. "Well, it certainly looks like that head trauma might have caused some damage after all."

"The only one suffering from injury appears to be you. I shall assume it's to your tongue which is why you're failing to answer any of my questions."

"I see whatever you've been through, you are your usual bright and cheery self. I suppose it would be too much to hope that being kidnapped would be a life changing experience for Miranda Priestly."

"Do you need to be asked to do everything twice? I am sure it must be tiring for those around you. So again – who are you and how is it you know me?"

"Given that your picture has been in every newspaper for a year, it's safe to say you're even more famous than when you left. A senator kidnapped by a drug cartel – that tends to make some headlines."

"A year? Drug cartel?" A shiver chilled Miranda's blood. She'd stood outside Makesh mere moments ago. Now this man talked of a year, of kidnappings, words that she didn't understand, fame she had not acquired as counsellor to the queen. She looked around, seeing etchings that stirred no recognition, items that didn't belong to any culture in Ashadriel.

_I want everything I had – position, power, sway. Moreover, I desire wealth – a fortune to rival any I could've ever had. _Her own words whispered through her mind.

"W-where am I?" Fear shook her lips.

The man looked on with pity in his eyes. "Capitol Hill Baptist Church, Washington, America. You're home, Senator, don't worry you're safe."

The fear doubled; a studious scholar knew every place within their land. Miranda was more than that – she'd studied both.

"W-where…" she had to stop, "…are we in proximity to Ashadriel? Kaledran?" Perhaps there was some small place she'd overlooked, some quaint little village left off the map – uncharted by the scholars that had come before her.

The man's puzzled frown confirmed the situation before the words had even left his mouth. "Is that where they held you? I've never heard of either of them. But you know these jungles, who really knows where anything is…I'm sure…"

His babbling faded away. Panic hit full force and it took everything she had to tamp it down. She was wrong; this was a mistake; she simply had to go outside. Thrusting the crying bundles towards the man, she watched him stagger under their unexpected weight, her eyes focused only on just one thing – the door. Each step was a chant, a prayer, a litany – _"I am wrong, I am wrong, I am wrong."_ Swinging it open, she was assailed by a variety of unfamiliar smells. A thing whizzed past her vision, at speeds she'd never seen – a metal contraption; another. A few went by before her eyes fell on the buildings – their structure and material strange; unknown. Lastly she saw the people – each of them dressed in clothes she had never seen; carrying items that they talked to, that made their heads bob to the sounds that didn't seem to be there.

Sagging against the doorframe, she watched several of the garish contraptions pull up, people storming out of them, intently making their way towards her. The lights blinded her: bursting, blinking, flashing. The words deafened her: some asking if she was alright, others asking where she'd been, more asking things she didn't know.

The chaos of it overwhelmed her – a swirling cacophony; a monster so ready to swallow her within its gaping maw. Hands clutched at her, guiding her towards contraptions, even more hands thrusting the babies towards her. Recoiling, she questioned, "No. What? Why?"

"Senator Priestly, you don't want them with you?"

She looked at their faces in bewilderment – _why would she? They didn't belong to her. _She told them so in no uncertain terms.

"Okay." She saw the woman press a button on her coat, "Potential head trauma, exhibiting signs of disorientation, possible memory loss, too early to tell. Prep for a CAT scan stat, this one's too high vis to fuck it up." Turning back round to Miranda, the woman said gently, "Senator…Mrs Priestly, the children are agitated, they want to be with their mother. "

"Well then I suggest you go and find her. Or is such a simple task beyond your questionable capabilities?" She looked the baggy outfit up and down with disdain. These people's fashion sense left much to be desired.

"Miranda, may I call you that?" Before she had a chance to voice a retort about familiarity breeding contempt, the woman pressed on. "I know you're confused, I can see you're in pain but I really need you to focus. If not for yourself, then for the children. Look at them." She thrust the bundles at Miranda again, the babies' faces scrunched up in even more anguished wails. "They need their mother."

"Then why are you handing them to me?" Miranda felt lost, unable to comprehend why this simple concept wasn't getting through to anyone around her.

"There was no-one else here when he found you," her head jerked towards the man she had encountered in the building. "Miranda. You _are_ their mother."

* * *

Staring out of the hospital (one of the many new words she had learnt that day) window, Miranda clutched at the pendant at her throat. She knew it was probably the only thing that kept her from screaming, kept her sane; a tenuous link to a world erased by careless words.

"Mrs Priestly, do you understand everything I've explained about retrograde amnesia?" The physician, doctor (she corrected herself), asked her.

"Yes." She understood enough to know she didn't have it. One couldn't forget something that they'd never known. But it gave her a cover, bought her time. And time was something she had plenty of. Two hundred and forty years in fact. Two hundred and forty years without one single familiar thing.

She clenched her teeth against the tears that threatened. This was what she'd wanted, she only had herself to blame.

"The physical trauma doesn't appear to have been severe enough to cause the damage. This means we are more than likely dealing with psychological trauma. The good news – that means that head of yours is even tougher than we thought," he smiled. "The bad news – anything dissociative is quite a tricky animal. The magnitude of the trauma that you likely suffered at the hands of those…people…could mean something will trigger your memory tomorrow, in a month, maybe a year. Worst case scenario – it never returns. But in the few hours you've been here, I've already seen you display recognition at words you struggled with when you arrived. That means you can learn, if need be – rebuild your entire life. It'll be tough but something tells me you'd be far too stubborn not to try."

She'd marvel at this stroke of luck but knew that nothing had been left to chance. Everything had been arranged just so; ready, once Miranda damned herself, for her to step in.

"Now about the children," he sounded more hesitant.

"What's wrong with them?" Her tone was icy. _Ridiculous._ How stupid of her to leave them in the care of these useless people.

"Oh nothing at all, they're fine; fantastic actually, given everything they've probably been through. I believe all the nurses on the 3rd floor are completely in love. They tell me it's those eyes." The last words carried a smile.

"Hmm…" She refused to let him see the equal pleasure and pain that bloomed at this pronouncement.

"They are very young. They shouldn't be separated from you for too long. I know that you don't remember them and of course that's understandable. You weren't pregnant when you were tak…when you left which leaves many questions you may never get answers to. So…"

"Fine," Miranda interrupted him. "Bring them to me. That's all." Dismissing him with a wave, she listened to his footsteps fade away. At least she should check them for herself. If these doctors couldn't distinguish an impostor, who knew what else they might have overlooked.

Shortly, she heard more footsteps; accompanying them the tiny cries and gurgles already imbedded in her mind. She turned her head to see the nurses place them in a device made of some sort of see through metal. The nurses' smiles were met with a glare which discouraged conversation, Miranda keen to see them leave. No sooner had the door closed that she was out of the bed, examining the girls for any harm that had befell them in her absence. Finding none, she settled them on her bed, staring at those tiny little fists waving about, listening to the nonsensical babble coming from their mouths. Surprisingly the noise didn't annoy her, instead soothing her with its lilting cadence. Involuntarily, her hand reached out to stroke a downy cheek, at the same time the brown eyes seeming to connect with Miranda's own, despite the fact that the baby was far too young to truly focus.

She'd heard the nurses talk about how they couldn't tell the twins apart. To her – they were as different as night and day. Already one of them appeared to be trying to roll away, her gurgle conveying the excitement of casting off the shackles of confined space. She'd be a crier; frustration already evident in her face as Miranda restrained her in place. But to her credit, she continued to try.

Stubborn. Just like _her_.

"Caroline."

She rolled the name around on her tongue. It fit.

The brown eyes seemed to hone in on Miranda's once again. It really appeared as though this one knew exactly where to look. The brown was softer here, warmer, much more calm.

Gentle. Just like _her._

"Cassidy."

Satisfied with having picked their names, she sat back, pondering next course of action.

_I want something of hers to hold, to remember her by._

The memory didn't cause the previous panic, serving only to reassure instead. She clenched the pendant in her hand, content that whilst this world may not be hers, some things would be her own after all.


	21. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

* * *

**" . . . a belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness." – **Joseph Conrad

* * *

**Realm – Kaledran – Present Time**

"You have to help me," Cassidy announced fiercely. "There has to be a way to break whatever this is."

The woman, the Black Queen as Cassidy had learned, did not deign to look up from her task which currently appeared to be clearing all the books from their shelves.

"What are you doing? This isn't the time for spring cleaning!"

This time Elnora did look up, only to aim a glare in her direction. "Well, don't just stand there. Make yourself useful and help me look for it."

"Look for what?"

"The Compendium, of course."

Cassidy frowned, "I don't know what that is."

She heard a mutter in response but managed to pick out only words like "stupid" and "useless".

"Aha!" Proceeding to drag a grimy tome out, Elnora slammed it down on the table, the resultant cloud of dust causing Cassidy to cough profusely. "Now let me see." The Black Queen quickly flipped the pages, Cassidy taking a step back as more and more particles permeated the air. Seeming to finally arrive at the desired page, her eyes scanned words Cassidy couldn't decipher.

She had no such problems understanding the bleakness that stole over Elnora's face as the monarch sighed and slammed the volume closed.

"What's wrong?" Cassidy enquired timidly.

The queen released another sigh. "I think at this stage the shorter answer is what's not."

"But you can fix this, right? There is a way to fix this?"

Elnora's gaze clouded with some indecipherable emotion. "There is."

She let silence descend until Cassidy was almost bouncing in expectation. "Well, what is it?"

"Something I don't think even I can ask of you."

"Try me." The thought of her mother's and Caroline's fate made Cassidy certain there was nothing she wouldn't do. She watched the queen's fingers rapidly flutter in the air as though even she was uncertain of how to phrase her request. A feeling of dread settled over her, instincts telling her that whatever made this confident assertive woman unsure had to be something really bad. Digging deep, she conjured up images of her family for courage. "Just tell me, I can help."

She saw respect momentarily flicker in Elnora's gaze before the queen gave her a curt nod. "Very well. On the way here, you told us many things but only one was of any consequence to me. That first time, when you met _her_, you said she drugged your soup but that she appeared to be in pain. Do you remember that conversation?"

Cassidy frowned, wracking her brain for the faint memory. "Not really. I - we didn't really have much chance to talk. I remember hearing my mother was safe then feeling so happy. And that's about it."

"Are you sure that was all?"

Cassidy bit her lip in concentration. "No, wait. She said something just before I passed out. Something about neither of us doing what she wanted and that she couldn't be around us because we didn't have control." Shrugging apologetically, Cassidy finished, "I'm sorry I'm not more helpful, I guess none of that really makes sense."

The queen's fingers fluttered again and her jaw tightened imperceptibly. "No, actually, you're wrong." Elnora's face turned grim. "Unfortunately, it all makes perfect sense."

"It does?"

"Yes. I heard your mother's bargain yesterday. Three days to return what rightfully belongs to _her_." The queen moved to the window, the quiver in her fingers translating itself to a restless drumming on the sill. "But it's not till now that all the pieces have come together, that I truly see what _it, _what they - no, what _we_ have wrought."

This time the shiver of dread was stronger, Cassidy's courage wavering in the face of Elnora's bitter tone.

As if making a decision, the queen spun round to face the girl. "Do you know what happened that night?"

Cassidy nodded. "Yes. The queen, she told me the story. My mother confirmed that all of it is true."

"Then you know my part." This time the bitterness was laced through with regret.

"Of course," Cassidy spat out. "It's why you're going to fix it."

"It's not that easy, there's nothing I, alone, can do. Perhaps you'd care to note, I was not the only one that made mistakes that night?"

Cassidy knew that to be true but she would not acknowledge this and let the woman off the hook. She continued to glare at her stubbornly.

The queen rolled her eyes, "Apparently I need to spell it out. Do you even understand how you came to be? Do you know what you truly represent?"

"Well, I mean, I guess we are her children?"

"Oh, if only. You're so much more than that."

"What do you mean?" Cassidy asked, bewildered.

"A part of Andrea to hold – your mother's wish; that which belongs to _her_ must be returned – your mother's stipulation. Whatever Andrea asked that night it was as if she erased all feeling – for over two centuries she's let nothing and no-one stand in her way. No matter the ruthless means, she's been determined to achieve her goal – there's only one thing she could have wished upon to attain this, only one thing that she could've given up. That which your mother truly took that night…"

"Her heart," Cassidy whispered in shock. "B-but that's impossible. No-one can live without a heart, c-can they?" The numerous revelations, the craziness of this world, served to make her uncertain even of this simple fact.

"No, they cannot, but they _can_ be made to think they can. Our mind is a wondrous thing, Cassidy. Often when necessary, it can even fool itself."

"So then - then she still has it?"

"Of course she does, just as of course _it_ tricked her, knowing that in time she'd learn how to ignore its pull. It's why you hurt her now – over two centuries without emotion, all that you make her feel must be true agony inside her head."

"T-that's why she was in pain? Because she feels everything we feel?"

"Yes," Elnora laughed. "It's oh so simple, oh so perfect in its execution."

"T-that's why she drugged us. Because she couldn't take the pain…"

"Undoubtedly. But she can't count on that to last for long."

Cassidy swallowed, immediately understanding what Elnora wasn't voicing. She tried to speak but found the words sticking in her throat, as if by saying them she'd make it true. When she eventually regained her voice, she focused only on what was most important, "We have to go then. We have to stop her. Before…"

"No," the new and yet familiar voice rung with unyielding resolution. "You will stay here, Cassidy."

The redhead turned to face her mother. "You heard Elnora."

"Then all the more reason for you to stay here. There's only two ways out for Andrea now. I won't let either of them pass."

"Do not be foolish," Elnora's eyes flashed angrily. "You would take away our sole advantage? She is Andrea's only weakness, we need her there."

"Do no forget about Caroline."

This time Elnora's laugh was cruel. "It's you that must forget about her. You think your daughter still remains yours? She's been in Andrea's clutches for nearly two days, I can assure you, by now, she's hers."

"I-I don't believe that." "You don't know Caroline!" Both Priestly women denied immediately.

"Stop fooling yourselves, this is what got us here in the first place! Andrea's mastered the human mind long ago. Caroline presents no challenge, by now she'll be entirely in her sway. Cassidy's the only power we hold now."

"I told you – no," Miranda's tone resonated danger. "You won't like it if I must repeat myself again."

"This isn't your choice," appearing bleak again, Elnora continued, "I don't think that you truly understand. You think that I would send a child to her death? What's worse, perhaps them both? It's not my being that's at stake here; you toy with the fate of all in both kingdoms. She won't stop, Miranda, none of us can change what she's become."

"I-I don't believe that," Miranda whispered.

"Stop saying that!" Accompanying this statement, Cassidy saw the bolts of energy crackle at Elnora's fingertips. "You have to face what we must do."

"I won't help you," Cassidy watched her mother pale. "I won't let my children watch their mother die."

"And tell me, what of other children? Should we accept that they'll watch their own pass away? Because that is precisely what will happen unless we stop her."

"I'm leaving now, there is a day left. I travel back to Ashadriel. Let us both hope I can persuade her then."

"You. Will. Fail," the queen spat out through gritted teeth. "You mean nothing to her, what is it about that that you do not understand?"

Cassidy watched her mother's face harden to familiar marble, aware how much that statement would have hurt. "There's still a chance," Miranda spoke stiffly.

"Stop being foolish. We travelled the lands – my own, hers. You saw it yourself, Miranda. She won't stop, she can't." Sighing wearily, Elnora breathed, "She has forgotten how."

"I-I'm going," Cassidy's words effectively quietened the room, "I-I want to help."

Both women turned to face her; one showing anguish, other admiration.

"Cassidy, no." Her mother stepped forward as if to physically restrain her.

"As I have said, this isn't your choice." The Black Queen's tone held respect. "It's hers and her decision has been made."

"She's still a child, she doesn't get to choose." Now anger overrode the pain in Miranda's eyes. "Of course, you're welcome to do whatever you wish."

"Then in advance I'll say I'm sorry for what I must do."

Before either Miranda or Cassidy could react, the queen thrust out her hand, a concentrated bolt of energy releasing itself in Miranda's direction. Her mother's body flew through the air to land and lie completely still. Cassidy stared uncomprehendingly, struggling to process what just happened. Almost of their own accord, her feet carried her across the room and before she realised what was happening, she found herself slamming her fists into the Black Queen's body. "Y-you…y-you…"

She was easily restrained by the monarch's grip, even as she struggled, kicking out in every possible direction. Subconsciously, she noticed that the grip was loose and gentle; the queen making maximum effort not to hurt her.

"Stop, Cassidy – she's fine. She'll have some bruises when she wakes up but I simply knocked her out. I didn't want to cause her pain, I simply needed her unconscious. Trust me when I say, she wouldn't have let me close enough to achieve that through any gentler means."

"Why did you have to hurt her at all?" Cassidy's efforts became more subdued.

"Because what we must do will hurt far more." The queen's eyes shone with sympathy and compassion, "I know you're young but even you must understand the pain that you'd feel…" The queen paused as if for a moment lost in her own private torment, "if you were forced to watch someone you love die. This," she waved her hand towards her mother's body, "is a kindness."

"I-" Cassidy swallowed, "don't know if I can. I mean, I don't know if I can do it. Help you, that is. I might not know her but it doesn't matter – she's still someone, she's still a person. I don't think I can stand there and watch her die."

Elnora nodded, "Of course, and as I've said, I cannot ask it of you. But until the time comes, you can distract her, divert her attention; watch your sister."

"And what will you do?"

Startled, Cassidy watched unshed tears shimmer in Elnora's eyes. "What I did not do all those years ago…make a wish."

* * *

Left alone Elnora sat down, re-opening the book, as if on instinct, on precisely the right page. The words leapt out, imbedded; damned her with their finality. She re-read them a dozen times yet they remained the same, save for the ink which slowly ran together as the tears she couldn't hold in check splashed down to land upon the sheet.

His shape appeared through a blurry gaze, his quiet meow only serving to increase the flood. Grimce looked down at the page, focus intent, and when he raised his gaze she saw the understanding in his eyes. "I-I can't," she whispered. The meow was louder this time, his agile hop over the book landing him right underneath the hand on which she rested her head. She heard his purr then, felt him butt her chin. His eyes stared into hers, beloved green her sole constant through centuries of life. "T-there has to be another way. I cannot sacrifice you, I won't. Maybe I don't need the anger and the rage; perhaps if I try hard enough, I can fool _it_…blind myself…"

His third meow was accompanied by a shaking of his head. She saw the green warm, read the silent permission and acceptance. He purred again, continuing to rub her chin with the crown of his head in order to console her and ease her anguish. She hugged him to her, buried her face within his now damp luxurious fur and only wept harder – for her idiotic pride, her malice and the one foolish mistake that had, and would, so dearly cost them all.


	22. Chapter 20

**A/N: This is the last chapter but there's still an epilogue to come. Thank you to everyone for their comments!**

Chapter 20

* * *

**"Are there, infinitely varying with each individual, inbred forces of Good and Evil in all of us, deep down below the reach of mortal encouragement and mortal repression – hidden Good and hidden Evil, both alike at the mercy of the liberating opportunity and the sufficient temptation?" – **Wilkie Collins

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Present Time**

Andrea sat in the garden, her eyes flicking up to take in the pale near-fullness of the moon. It radiated beauty – its own, and the one it represented. Just a couple of hours left.

_She _was late.

Andrea had expected her hours ago. That Miranda was choosing to leave things till the very last moment unsettled her, made Andrea wary of some grand surprise. The truth of the matter was – she'd been unsettled the entire day. Her head was aching unbearably but Caroline was not to blame for this. The girl had shut down again, resolutely avoiding Andrea and the queen had chosen not to push. She was still fairly certain the girl was hers, even more so now that the minutes counted down so quickly. Pity about Cassidy but there was nothing she could do about that. Well, nothing she could do yet, for she was certain it was the other's mind that ran the gamut of emotions, causing this constant insufferable ache. She rubbed her temples for what seemed to be the millionth time, aware that the pain had served to become a cloud of fog which dulled the sharpness of her mind.

"A-are you alright?"

The quiet voice reverberated inside her head as if its owner felled her with an axe. Andrea winced, rising quickly to her feet. At last the time had come.

"Hello, Cassidy."

The redhead looks startled for a second, her smile forlorn as if she'd cherished hope she'd be able to fool the queen. "H-how did you know?"

"I'll always know. You two are nothing alike."

"That's not true. Everyone's forever getting us mixed up. Except Mum, of course," she tacked on hastily at the end.

"Well, I'm not everyone and I am most definitely _not_ your mother. Well, except that of course – I _am_," Andrea callously mocked her, determined to push the girl off balance. No surprise registered in the girl's eyes at her quip; an unfortunate blow. "So she's already told you then. How very nice. Same old Miranda – always one step ahead. I must admit I hadn't counted on her telling you the truth. After all, that's never been her forte. Tell me, where is she now?"

Cassidy stiffened. "She isn't here."

The spike of pain that washed over Andrea conveyed the depth of Cassidy's emotion. She wasn't lying. Damnation. Could she really have overestimated Miranda's feelings for her children? Did she honestly care so little?

"She would've come but Elnora stopped her." As if understanding the nature of Andrea's thoughts, the redhead clarified her statement.

"You didn't travel here alone."

"Of course, she didn't."

Andrea spun just in time to raise a wall of ice which shattered but acted as a shield, absorbing the crackling energy bolt hurled towards her.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than that," Andrea smiled in satisfaction, becoming aware that at least one surprise tonight would prove to be to her advantage. "Hello, Elnora. Long time no see."

"Not long enough," the Black Queen shot back in irritation. "You're still the same thorn in my side that you were all those years ago. Well, technically not true – now you're worse."

"It doesn't feel so good, now does it? When it is _your_ life someone's trying to destroy? Count yourself lucky I hold no vindictiveness or I would've disposed of you some time ago."

"You would have tried. But just as now, you would have failed."

"I highly doubt that but this turn of conversation leads us nowhere productive. There's no reason for you to die tonight, not unless you are planning to oppose me. Why don't you join me instead? You can relinquish the darkness, Elnora. It doesn't have to guide your hand."

"And what, embrace the emptiness that steers yours? Unlikely. I'd rather feel the sting of pain than choose to feel nothing at all."

"Very well. If that is what you wish." Andrea's smile was bland, even as razor sharp shards of ice rose up around her. "Do let me know when you have had enough."

"Wait!" Cassidy's cry pierced the evening air, as surely as her emotion stabbed Andrea's body. The surge of anguish served to be so strong, Andrea's hands involuntarily lifted to clutch her head in pain, ice raining down around her uselessly. "You don't have to do this!" Through the haze of pain, Andrea watched the tears slowly roll down her daughter's cheeks. "P-please. S-she loves you, she's always loved you. It's not too late. People can change. You loved her once and you can love again."

* * *

"And what has her love ever brought us?" Caroline pronouncement captured everyone's attention. She catalogued each one of them in turn; her mother – in pain; the dark haired woman – surprised; her sister – clearly in shock.

"C-caro…w-what are you s-saying?" Cassidy's voice trembled uncontrollably.

"Where is she, Cass? Where is Miranda now?"

Cassidy recoiled at her use of their mother's name. "S-she is at Elnora's palace…" Her eyes flicked over to the dark haired woman, identifying her. "She couldn't come. I can't explain but trust me, she has good reasons." Cassidy's stare bore into Caroline's own, wordlessly communicating they'd discuss it later.

Ignoring her Caroline laughed sardonically, "She always has reasons, Cass, and all of them are bullshit. There's only one explanation, the one that tells me why she's not here now – she doesn't love us, she never has. Just face the facts, stop living in your dream world." The flare of hurt in her sister's eyes served only to spur her on. "Grow up, _Cassidy_, we are not children anymore." Connecting with her mother's gaze, she warmed at the cold glow of acceptance and pride reflected in her eyes.

"Shut up!" Cassidy's tone was shrill, her fists clenched with the agitation that tensed her body. "What the hell do you really know? Whatever lies she's told you, they can't hide the truth. It's not me that's living in the dream world, Caro. You use any excuse to see the wrong in mother's actions, you never stop to question anything she does. You've always made it all about you, like it's her goal to constantly belittle you. You've no idea how you hurt her, how the very sight of you brings pain to her heart. She's never wanted anything but the best for us but you're too blind to see that. That's why this woman clouds your mind, Caro, that's why you choose to believe Andrea over me. It's not because her words are true, it's just because she tells you what you want to hear. You're right, it's past time to grow up, _Caroline._ But it is not_ my_ fantasies that have to end."

Rage flitted through Caroline's body and had she been able to recognise it – sorrow; pain at the truth behind those words. But she could not put name to that emotion and so she lashed out in turn, "Well, what a nice surprise, not like you to defend her – but then again, you've always been Miranda's pet. Isn't that the reason that she took you and abandoned me? You -You're just as blind as me, the only difference between us? At least _my_ mother won't leave me once she's had enough."

"She never left you!" This time Cassidy's agitation was accompanied by a stamp of sheer frustration. "Elnora only had time to take one of us! I'm sorry it was me, I'm sorry you got left behind but she wanted to come back, there's only one thing that could've stopped her. And it's why she's probably still unconscious now. Or knowing Mum, possibly restrained against her will! We didn't want her to come, we never wanted her to see this!" As if having realised she'd said too much, Cassidy clapped a hand over her mouth.

"So," Andrea pronounced coldly, her gaze pinning the woman called Elnora, "you really came to stop me after all. You thought to spare her the anguish. Of seeing her child's death?" her glance encompassed Cassidy. "Or mine?"

The stark words silenced Caroline quicker than anything in her entire life. She trembled, suddenly so very unsure of what was going on. "D-death?" She forced the word out through her lips.

"Yes – death, Caroline. You heard your sister, she's not about to change. I cannot live like this, can't function with this level of pain. You must become as I, _you_'ve seen the value of that, persuade your sister of the same."

* * *

Immediately after Andrea's statement, her mother's words echoed through Cassidy's mind, _promise me that you'll remember the lessons in my mistakes, that you'll make your sister see them too._

"Caro, this is wrong." Overwhelming fear gripped Cassidy, the young girl terrified to lose the sister held so dear. "Listen to what she's saying! She's willing to kill me and this is what you are looking to become? Caro, please, it's not too late. Mum might have made mistakes but she never pictured this, would never have wanted you to go this far. She is so sorry, Caro, so sorry for everything she's done. She wanted to tell you, she so wanted to tell you that herself." Cassidy choked on a sob, "You didn't see her. You can't understand how broken she is, what all of this has cost her."

"Don't listen, Caroline. This is exactly the kind of lie Miranda has perpetrated all her life."

"It's not a lie," Cassidy stared at Andrea in resignation. "Here, do you remember this?" She reached inside her pocket, bringing out the pendant she'd taken before she left. "Look at its colour. She told me. She spoke of everything it meant. This is all the proof you need, it shows much more than words how she regrets her choice."

She saw Caroline frown her surprise, Andrea frown her concentration. As if some elusive memory finally surfaced in her mind, the queen's face hardened once again. "That proves precisely nothing, simply that her choice was not as palatable as she'd hoped. It speaks of no lament, just consequences of her hasty actions."

"Why is that you won't believe me?" Tears coursed down Caroline's cheeks.

"Why is it any of us turn our face away from truth? Because it's easier, so much more painless to hide." Elnora's mouth twisted into a bitter smile, "It's why _it_'s always able to make a mockery of us all."

* * *

_Such harsh words, I almost find myself __**wishing **__they were something I could refute._

The moonlight bathed the shimmering creature in silvery blue light, painting it in colour that did not reflect its sinister existence. The constant waves of pain disconcerted Andrea almost as much the dangling pendant in Cassidy's hand and Elnora's abrupt and angry words.

_Alas, I'm bound by the truth – unfortunate indeed._

"What truth?" Cassidy asked. "What are you?"

_You know, millennia have passed and yet I never tire of that question, t_he creature's mocking tone indicated otherwise.

"More likely you never tire of the answer you do not reveal," Elnora's rigid body shone anger. "I think it's time they knew the truth, don't you? If you won't tell them, I will make it known myself."

_Forever the one determined to strip away illusions. I can't believe I ever thought you needed me._

"What are you talking about?" For the first time in centuries Andrea felt a kernel of anger bloom inside her, an emotion long contained in check.

_What I am. Or should I say, what you – all of you – happen to be, Andrea._

"And what is that? I'm tired of your tricks."

_Ah but that's the beauty of it, the very essence of this paradigm – it's you who play the tricks upon yourselves, all of you that provide my power. Ironic, is it not? That I, my spirit alone, am nothing – a force far more ineffectual than you and yet, I never fail to triumph - Why? Because that part of you, the dark part that deludes yourself, your inner voice that whispers softly in your mind – __**this isn't wrong, it's for the best, it will work out**__ – that part? __**That**__ forms the very core of me. So you see, the truth of the matter has never been what __**I**__ am, Andrea; the timeless question is – what are all of __**you**__?_

"T-that isn't possible," Andrea whispered, realisation numbing her lips, "it wasn't me."

_I told you all those years ago that you would not be different. Your reaction proves it now just as it did back then –that night you chose to make your wish. All that I spoke, my every word, were simply ones plucked from your own mind. That gentle part of you was buried deep that night – your dark side craving retribution. You fancy it is I that pushed you, whereas the fact is – it is I that's pushed by you. My power to grant your wish comes from that mind of yours; your own determination is what made it so._

"Then," Andrea's chest tightened within the confines of her dress, her lungs struggling to draw sufficient breath. "My feelings, all emotions…"

…_have been present the entire time. I never took them. You learned how to banish them yourself._

* * *

"And what about me?"

"Mum," Cassidy ran to Miranda's side. "What are you doing here, how -?

"Luckily I'm more resilient than people give me credit for." Her mocking words were directed at both Elnora and the creature.

_Miranda, welcome, now all of us are here at last. I had so hoped you'd be able to join us tonight, without you things would have been so…incomplete._

"I asked a question."

_Ah, with you I skirted much closer to the edge. You almost didn't give in, for a moment I truly thought you wouldn't. The pendant of course, my own little weapon, thankfully gave you the required push. As others, you're equally susceptible to emotion, even though it's logic that controls your hand. You hesitated but your arrogance overruled you, made you blind to checking the details of what you asked._

"Then you did trick me."

_Oh come now, I just told you, you are ruled by logic. It should have told you there was nowhere within these realms you could've obtained what you wished. Deep down you knew that, but you did not ask, because like Andrea, you didn't desire to know the truth._

"B-but…that's even better, don't you see?" Cassidy spoke up out of nowhere. "You just suppressed it, buried what you are. You don't even need to change back because you never changed at all. You just need to remember - remember how you used to be."

Andrea paled, coldness asserting itself within her eyes. "You're right, Cassidy, I do not need to change. What's done is done, how it has been achieved is immaterial. I have no desire to be the girl that I once was, and if I have only myself to thank for this transformation, then it is only fair I reward myself by restoring the peace that _you_…" she turned to face Miranda, "have singlehandedly destroyed by bringing them."

* * *

Elnora's rapt fascination with unfolding events almost cost Miranda her life, the queen only just managing to use her powers to shatter the icy shard hurled at the woman's heart. Meeting Cassidy's frightened gaze she nodded in Caroline's direction. Cassidy nodded back in return, moving closer to her sister.

"This would have never happened if it wasn't for you," Andrea hissed in accusation.

"I know," Miranda poignantly accepted. "I'm sorry. I haven't said those words enough – to you, to both the girls. I never learned how."

"Spare me the last minute confessions. It is a little too late."

More ice rose to tremble in the air around them, reflecting the unsteadiness of Andrea's hands. Elnora wasn't entirely certain it was pain that caused her hand to quiver but she was positive that she couldn't take the chance that centuries of delusion would crumble to a timely end.

"You're right. Just as this declaration is one I should have made over twelve, no, two hundred and forty years ago – I love you, Andrea, I always have. Through my foolish mistakes, despite your own, I fear I always will. I'm almost out of time and once I'm forced to go back - without them," her hand indicated the girls, "without you, there'll truly be nothing left. So go ahead, do what you're about to do. It'll only be compassion, an act of mercy fully befitting the woman I fell in love with."

Caroline's eyes now swam with tears, joining those spilled by Cassidy beside her. The ice shook ever harder, the shards clinking against each other. Elnora allowed herself a tiny hope that she'd been wrong and no sacrifice would be required of her at all. She held her breath, it seemed as though the very air around them did.

The shards abruptly stilled. "You're correct. As always, it falls to you to point out the error of my ways, Miranda. I'm not here to dispense an act of mercy, more to remove that which continues to deter my goal."

The shards swung in a new direction, their jagged points aimed solely at the girls.

"I wish to be granted the children's power. Whatever it is, however they affect her. Make _me_ as they are, instead." Miranda's wish sounded unbelievably loud in the stillness of the air.

The wall of laughter, its ring so sharp and cold it felt as if it stripped a layer of skin, immediately echoed around them.

_Oh Miranda. You truly think it's in my power to grant a selfless wish? If so, I fear you're sorely mistaken. That faculty has never been mine to command._

* * *

Cassidy watched Elnora's eyes close in despair at this announcement and when the queen re-opened them, her gaze was drawn elsewhere. Glancing in the same direction, Cassidy saw Grimce prowling towards them, his belly skimming the ground, ochre fur standing out in stark relief against the white of the surrounding snow. He stopped momentarily and Cassidy glanced at the queen. Her eyes holding indescribable sorrow, she nodded once in his direction then turned away.

_She can't bear to watch._

The thought leapt through Cassidy's mind just slightly quicker than the cat leapt through the air. Andrea spun at the very last moment, erecting a shield of ice with which she deflected Grimce away. He yowled in pain as he landed on his back.

One of the ice shards swung again, followed by an instantaneous release. Cassidy didn't think. If she had thought, she would've probably been far too scared to take the course of action, but as it was, she acted on instinct borne and bred. Hurtling through the air, her arms wrapped round the cat, her body now a shield. The flash of pain that stabbed her in the back caused her to cry out, the ice cold agony even worse than the time she'd fallen out of a tree, breaking her leg. Almost immediately, she felt warm liquid seeping through her clothes, heard the frantic shouts of "Cassidy" which already seemed to drift to her from miles away.

She heard a heartbeat, then nothing for a while. All of a sudden, another joined it and a rough tongue licked her neck.

Cassidy smiled weakly, her last thought that at least her efforts weren't in vain.

* * *

The child's actions stunning her into incomprehension, Elnora stared at the red which slowly spread around the wound, soaking the fur, staining the ground beneath the prone forms. She saw Miranda run towards them, Caroline too; watched shards of ice slam to the ground around them. Andrea staggered, half falling to her knees, the rebounding pain of Cassidy's wound too great to bear.

Watching it all, she felt it stirring, heard the noise retreat. It started as a tickle in her stomach which rose and grew into a flutter. The flutter coalesced into something sharper, more consuming. It swelled within her, leaving no room for feeling, even breath. The higher it climbed, the more it gathered speed until Elnora knew had it been tangible – it would have shot out of her every pore.

Rage – fury like she'd never known – the temper that branded Black Queens, one and all.

She gazed into the abyss – the darkness trapped within her – and whereas normally she cautiously stepped back, she boldly plunged into its embrace. The roiling lava of hatred engulfed her, welcomed her; whispering insidious demands. Relinquishing control, she focused on a sole objective – make Andrea pay.

Turning to face the creature, she growled, "It's time we talked."

* * *

The agony slowly receded until the throb of pain was only a hammer in her skull. Andrea drew breath, trying to concentrate on this lone simple act. In and out, in and out. She didn't know how long had passed before at last she managed to raise her head. Fresh pain skewered her at the sight that met her eyes; mixed with the twins', other pain she was unaccustomed to.

Miranda cradled the girl, stemming the flow of blood which seeped out from the wound. Caroline was crying; sobbing so hard her lungs surely gasped for air. Lastly, her gaze swept over Elnora, the monarch's actions freezing Andrea's blood. Trying to focus through the torture, she heard Elnora utter, "You know exactly what I want."

She didn't need to hear more. Raising her hand, she made the ice lift off the ground, much slower than she would have liked; as thought it, just as she, fought an invisible opposing force.

"As long as I rule," Elnora paused, her gaze triumphantly locking with Andrea's, "each White Queen will bear the weight of her mistakes. Every single action she takes from now on, every one that she's already taken for the purpose of hurting another living thing, will resound within her twofold. However, pain itself will never kill her; let a queen's normal life-span prolong her suffering."

The ice shards trembled but rose a little higher just as other emotions bombarded Andrea.

"No!" Miranda's shout cut across it all. "Elnora, please. Whatever she's done, she doesn't deserve this. No-one can bear the burden of such pain."

"Why, we've all borne the burden of hers. Let's see her handle it now." With that Elnora's gaze returned to _it_ once more before she pronounced coldly, "I am certain. In fact, I've never been more certain of anything in my entire life. Do it – now."

* * *

Viscous liquid coated Miranda's hands as she struggled to stem her daughter's flow of blood. Whilst the wound appeared clean, unlikely fatal, the chilly air tinged Cassidy's lips with a layer of blue. Shivers wracked her prone body, whether from cold or shock, Miranda didn't know. As Elnora's words rung all around them, her gaze helplessly drew to the woman she loved. She knew the moment the wish had been fulfilled for Andrea stilled and then a keening anguished moan passed her lips, her legs giving out completely, fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically as tears soaked her face. She clutched her head between her arms, rocking back and forth, lost in a labyrinth of pain.

"Caro, sweetheart, put pressure on your sister's wound right here. Now hold it like this, yes, exactly like that. Good girl. I need to get a doctor."

Rushing in the direction of the castle, she slammed the first servant that passed against the wall, barely waiting for his frightened whimper of reassurance that someone would be there in five minutes. She honestly hoped for his sake that promised timescale was met. Sprinting back outside, she saw Andrea still in the same position, Elnora now at her daughter's side, lowering herself to the ground to gently touch the cat. Moving closer, Miranda caught the glimmer of tears Elnora was failing to suppress. Startled by the surge of pity, she became aware that she'd truly misjudged this complex woman. Who was she to say how love should take its form; be for a child or a pet?

Dropping to her knees, she resumed putting pressure on the wound, soothingly stroking Cassidy's hair. Suddenly seeing movement, almost simultaneous, she watched both child and cat slowly open their eyes. "Mum?" Cassidy's gaze was ravished by pain. She whimpered pitifully, the sound tearing at Miranda's heart. "Is he - did…" Before she could finish her sentence, a wet tongue gently bathed her ear. The cat released a tiny rumble, rubbing its head against the young girl's cheek, its tail swirling to curl around Elnora's fingers. The tears held in check spilled over, Elnora gently rubbing matted fur.

"D-did you finish it?" Cassidy whispered. "Did you fix it like you said?"

"S-shh…Cassidy…shh…" Miranda made sure to block the vision of Andrea from her daughter's sight. "There's nothing for you to worry about."

"N-no, you promised," Cassidy's stare bore into Elnora's eyes. "You told me…there was a way."

The cat meowed quietly, almost as if in agreement, intent stare piercing the Black Queen's face.

"No," Elnora spat out angrily, "she doesn't deserve it."

The meow was louder, this time admonishment rather than accord. Grimce's paw batted at Elnora's hand, conveying a message only the two of them appeared to understand.

"P-please," Cassidy's breath rattled in her chest. "I saved him…for you. You owe me. This is the only way to pay me back."

Ever so gradually rage drained from Elnora's face, subtle gratitude replacing residual loathing. Rubbing her jaw, she sighed, "Very well. Though I do hope this is something none of us regret. You've no idea what I am giving up. I doubt she," Elnora indicated behind her, "will ever truly appreciate it." Rising, she stood and faced the creature.

* * *

_All in a night's work, it's been most entertaining, but I'm guessing the festivities are coming to an end._

"Not so fast."

_Something else you want?_

"No. Just something you didn't count on."

_How so? I'm breathless with anticipation._

"You're not the only one with tricks."

_Didn't we cover this already? Or now that your temper has diminished, is regret already setting in?_

"I won't be the only one lamenting things tonight."

_You keep on talking but I hear nothing worthwhile._

"Tell me Fauril," she felt its surprise at her knowledge of its name, "When is a wish a wish but not a bargain at all?" Before it even had a chance to speak, she finished, "When the one who makes it knows how to break such an arrangement."

_You're lying, you've no idea how_, the creature's normally smooth voice assumed infuriated overtones.

"Oh but I do, Fauril, I do. You see, inside Kaledran castle's walls lies a Compendium that talks of many things. But even if I hadn't read it, you gave the answer earlier yourself. It isn't you that holds the power, it is us. You don't destroy us; with your help we ruin ourselves. But you forget within each one of us lies an opposing force. You count on darkness always to prevail but you must know that there are times that it does not."

_I __**am**__ you. You have no capacity to fool me. I feel what you feel, know that you wanted what you asked._

"And in that moment I did, but in advance I knew exactly what would prompt my rage. I only needed but an instant in which I truly believed that I desired my request. You're right, Fauril, I did require to fool you but for that all that I needed to do was fool myself."

_And yet you chose to express the wish, whether you wanted it or not. Consequently, its power will continue to hold true._

Elnora laughed, "But that's where you're wrong. This wish was carefully fashioned in advance, its words formulated to allow me leeway should I choose to break it."

The anger was stronger now, its words a quiet hiss. _Impossible._

"Let's see. 'As long as I rule', I believe the first part of my wish?"

The hiss changed to a painful screech.

"Well then, I, Elnora of Kaledran, 237th Black Queen, relinquish my power, my kingdom and my rule. I choose to step down with immediate effect and so," she paused, victorious smile gracing her lips, "I believe our bargain ends right here."

The subsequent din that rose around them prompted all to clap their hands over their ears, unable to stand the jarring cacophony of both anger and mirth. Seeming to last forever, it finally ground to a shuddering halt.

_Well, very good; millennia, yet not many have been able to evade my grasp. I will subside, for now, but be aware – their bargains will continue to hold true. What will you do when once again Andrea is herself?_

"She won't be. You see I only needed her to hear the truth, to know just several moments of that agonising pain. She is aware now she's brought this on herself; has felt the damage that she alone has wrought. She'll never revert back to the girl that started all of this but she will also not return to being the queen she was."

_There are others, Elnora. You must know I – they – will never stop._

"You didn't win today and you won't always triumph. Maybe one day we will be rid of you for good."

_Now, who's __**truly**__ fooling herself, Elnora? Humanity will never change._

"We might surprise you."

His laughter clanged his disbelief as the darkness of the night absorbed his form.

_Well,_ _I look forward to that._

* * *

Knowing she had just mere minutes, having already said heart wrenching goodbyes to both the girls, Miranda walked along the corridor to where she knew she'd find _her_. Their tears still soaked her shirt, her own freely streaming down her face. She let them fall, for the first time in as long as she could remember, not feeling embarrassment at such a public display of emotion.

Slipping into her room, she quietly closed the door. Elnora's gaze met hers, the queen shrugging defensively at Miranda's searching look. "Surely you are not expecting me to trust her."

Throwing back a pained grimace, she settled on the corner of the bed. Andrea's sleep appeared to be fitful, no doubt a tapestry of fractured dreams. Allowing herself a touch, Miranda brushed her hand along a pale cheek, a sloped brow, impossibly soft lips. "My God, it's as if a day's not passed. That is the cruellest trick of all. That I still see her as she was back then."

Elnora wisely didn't answer, aware that Miranda wasn't seeking a reply, certainly not her own caustic commentary.

"You have to help her, Elnora. You have to help them all."

"Mmm, no, I believe I've done my duty. Actually I'm fairly certain I've surpassed it. I owe nothing to any of them. Not that I ever did," she added.

"Then do it for me. When I asked you for her location, you told me that I was owed a debt. I ask for only one thing – this. You must help her guide them, they're only twelve, there's so much that they've yet to learn. I saw what you did today, Elnora. Those weren't the acts of a heartless, cruel woman. You faced a choice and you elected good. Help to instil the same in them. Both kingdoms need you still, there's no-one better for the task."

"Well," Elnora visibly suppressed a gloating smile filled with pride, "I don't know, it is a _huge_ imposition of course, but I suppose. Lord knows what havoc they'll wreak if left to their own devices."

Miranda couldn't resist wiping the smirk from off her face. "Talking of havoc, I couldn't help but notice your cat's left you for much greener pastures?" She raised an eyebrow in question.

Elnora's smile turned petulant. "Yes, all the more reason to stay here. Perhaps I might manage to teach your daughter how not to steal what doesn't belong to her."

The clock began to chime the midnight hour, the pressure starting to build inside her chest.

11, 10, 9 –

"Oh God, just bloody kiss her already," Elnora muttered. "It's not like there's a chance you'll ever see her again." With that she stood up with a huff and stalked out of the room.

6, 5, 4 –

Her chest continued to tighten.

Miranda leant down, clutching the pendant and whispered, "I love you, Andrea" before sealing the declaration with a kiss that gently conveyed all the emotion that she had stored for years and years.

1 –

The clock sounded its final chime, Andrea's lips inadvertently curling upwards in a peaceful smile.


	23. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Miranda sighed, wrapping up the final paperwork of the day. _A__nother term as Senator Priestly_, _not bad at all, _her lips quirked into a smile. Gathering briefs to finish before her early start tomorrow, she left the office, Emily waiting outside to hand her bag and coat. "Have a good night, Miranda."

She accepted them without breaking stride then stopped a moment later, retracing her steps. Lips quirking once more as she witnessed the flash flood of fear in Emily's eyes upon her swift return, she queried, "What are you doing this weekend, Emily?"

"Well, actually, tomorrow is my sister's wedding. I'm missing it of course because I'll be here. Happy to be here I mean - who wants to attend weddings anyway? Boring affairs, you know…" Realising she was babbling, Emily flushed and stopped. "I will be attending the reception afterwards however I'll see you tomorrow morning, 7:00 am sharp."

"Mmm, Emily…" Miranda allowed herself to feel a touch of affection for the girl that would never even think to request time off for such a special occasion. "I really don't think so. You see, I don't believe that I require your services."

The redhead blanched. "Y-you don't?"

"No."

"O-oh, but…." Emily looked seconds from bursting into tears.

Deciding that she'd fulfilled her quota of amusement for the day, Miranda finished, "Not until Monday morning." Whilst Emily stood gaping like a fish Miranda tossed out, "Make sure to have fun, that's all," before walking to the elevator with a smile.

* * *

Upon entering the house, she paused to savour the moment. Two years but still the sounds of her children's now frequent laughter never failed to warm her heart.

"You're so dead." "I believe the proper term is 'deadeth'." "It is not." "Is too."

"Girls," Miranda's stern yet light-hearted tone as she entered the living room served to elicit a pair of identical sheepish grins.

"Sorry Mum," Cassidy piped up, always the one to issue the first apology.

"You know, technically, we're the same age now. We turned fifty two last week." As always, Caroline couldn't resist to needle with her favourite joke. "Next time you tune into the Cass and Caro show, we'll actually be older than you. And then I think I'm going to call _you_ 'girl'."

Miranda growled, "You can certainly try, but rest assured, you'll regret it."

The twins both laughed, aware that despite the distance, that sentiment was true and that their mother would find a way to make it happen.

The next few minutes were devoted to their usual catch-up. With time progressing much faster in their realm, even daily contact at Miranda's end meant that she missed out on weeks of their lives at any given time. At first that realisation had devastated her, especially as they'd been growing up. Eventually, they settled into a pattern – the girls being able to conjure up these windows within which time thankfully seemed to pass at the same speed as in Washington. Whilst their length remained short, the ease with which they could be established on a regular basis made Miranda accept that in the grand scheme of things, it could've been entirely far worse. Plus now she got to be the "cool" one, the parent not having to impose any rules. Not that it appeared rules needed much enforcement, the twins instilling only pride as they reported on their daily rule.

"How's Elnora?"

The twins looked at each other and simultaneously parroted, "Cranky!"

Miranda laughed. "And last month's irrigation problem that ran the border between Ashadriel and Kaledran?"

The girls launched into a spirited and somewhat heated explanation of how they had decided to resolve that matter, leaving Miranda to muse upon the division of realm rule. In spite of Elnora's general dislike of people, Cassidy's actions and her indomitable spirit managed to capture the Black Queen's affections, the former monarch announcing her as successor just shortly after that fateful night. Andrea had followed suit, unwilling to maintain her status as queen after everything that'd passed before, inevitably pronouncing Caroline as hers. And so both girls assumed their thrones at close to thirteen years of age, certainly by far the youngest, but most importantly – the closest queens that ever ruled. The blood tie tightly bound them; serving to unite where in the past aloofness reigned, even destroyed. Consequently, both kingdoms were blooming, restored to former beauty and beyond.

The girls tailed off and Miranda swallowed past the lump that always lodged itself within her throat whenever she got round to voicing this particular question. "So, how's your mother?"

Expecting the usual detailed report, she was startled to hear Cassidy say softly, "She can tell you that herself."

A tremor shuddered through her body at this statement, for whilst she had maintained regular contact with the girls, Andrea had never chosen to speak with her, no matter how much Miranda had pleaded, begged or asked.

"Speak to you sometime tomorrow, or should I say next month?" "Yeah, love you, Mum." Both girls blew her a kiss and left the room.

Miranda fussed with her hair, her hand nervously smoothing invisible wrinkles on the Valentino. Of course, she knew that she looked fine, that her entire lifetime had been spent on maintenance of looking good. But this was Andrea, it was the first meeting, she hadn't properly spent time with her for fourteen years and -

"You are still beautiful, Miranda. Somehow I think you always will be." The melodious tone she hadn't heard for an eternity rung in the quiet of the room.

"A-Andrea," Miranda cursed the tremble in her voice, annoyed she sounded like some teenager out on a first date.

"Hello, Miranda." The familiar eyes momentarily crinkled in amusement as though Andrea had read the thought within her head. It was disconcerting to think that perhaps after three centuries of life, Andrea truly could.

She drank her fill, greedily absorbing forty years of change. A few wrinkles here and there, a tiny hint of grey, the brown of the eyes holding a slight degree of coldness, but really – Andrea hadn't changed at all. When Miranda looked upon her face, she saw exactly the girl she'd fallen in love with years ago.

"Don't." The whisper, quiet but commanding, was definitely something new. "Don't look for her, she isn't there. You'll never know that girl again."

"I've warned you before about dictating my actions, Andrea. All that you are will always lie inside. I choose to see what I believe is there. I can assure you, you won't be able to convince me otherwise."

Andrea laughed. "I don't think I could ever forget such stubbornness even if three more centuries should pass."

Miranda lips lost their smile as she contemplated that she would not live long enough to see the majority of that. The thought brought pain and sorrow, prompting her to ask with rancour, "Two years, Andrea, forty for you. I lost track of how many times I asked, why is it you would never see me?"

Andrea sighed, "I wish I could properly explain but I cannot, not unless there was a way that you could reach inside of me and read my very mind. Forty years - it could have well been forty more. You remembered me as I was, but me? I truly didn't. It took me decades to regain some part of my old self, to turn back from what I'd made myself become. I didn't want to hurt you, Miranda. For you, I wanted to be a semblance of what I was."

"And now?" Miranda asked cautiously.

"I realise this is as close as I'll ever get. If you must love, it should be this Andrea, not the girl that you remember me to be."

Miranda smile bore sadness, "You still don't realise, but of course how could you when I never told you? It doesn't matter which version of you I see before me – I love, have loved and will continue to adore them all."

Andrea blushed and lowered her eyes, just as the light between them began to flicker, signalling the end of their connection. "It was good to see you." Andrea rose to stand, "I hope next month we can talk again and maybe…" She bit her lower lip as if unsure whether to finish her sentence.

Miranda encouraged her with a look.

"…together we'll find that part of me that fell in love with you all those centuries ago."

As the light completely disappeared, Miranda's lips stretched into a radiant smile, even though its cause had also entirely vanished. Rubbing her chest, she felt the warm tingles radiate outwardly from her heart. For the first time in fourteen years, she ran up the staircase, taking two steps in stride. Divesting her clothes for a leisurely soak, she stepped into the bathroom, this time no hesitation as she stooped to examine herself within the mirror. By doing so she swiftly caught the change. Her image blurred, the discovery eliciting unbridled tears of joy, for she had never hoped to see it this way again. Delicately cradling it within her hand, she gazed, almost unable to believe her eyes. Standing out in stark relief against her skin, what used to show the forbidding of a black, had once again transformed into a shimmery and hopeful white.

* * *

**Realm – Ashadriel – Miranda's 21****st**** Birthday**

Andrea grinned as she walked towards her, the brightly coloured package grasped in outstretched hand. Miranda patted the chair beside her. Of course, Andrea ignored it and climbed into her lap.

"Aren't you getting a little old for this? I could've sworn that you turned eight last summer," Miranda grumbled.

"Mother says that I'm allowed to do what I want on special occasions."

"I am fairly certain that's _your_ special occasions; this one is _mine_."

Unperturbed, Andrea continued to grin as she settled in more comfortably. "Yes, but I really want to see your face when you fiiiiiiiiinally open it."

Miranda rolled her eyes, "I wasn't aware you had such poor vision that a chair this close to mine would not afford a proper view."

"Come on. Open it, open it!" Andrea was close to bouncing up and down in excitement.

Unwrapping the package, Miranda was met with an oblong box. Assuming its use as a convenient substitute when faced with a lack of other packaging, she made a note to return it to its rightful owner. Preparing a suitable expression of excitement and surprise, she lifted its lid. Her carefully formulated response died as she gazed in true amazement at the gift. Within the box lay an ornate silver chain, one end holding a beautiful transparent pendant. As Miranda picked it up, leaving the chain dangling from her hand, the clear colour shimmered, coalescing into white.

Miranda gasped, Andrea grinned in satisfaction.

"Happy Birthday, Miranda. You know, I was kind of worried. The man at the market told me it was magic but I wasn't too sure. And he said it only works on one person, the one that picks it up first, so I couldn't even test it for myself."

"Magic?" Scepticism returned, Miranda adding another note in resignation; this one to check exactly how much coin this 'wonderful' enchantment had truly cost.

"Uhuh. It knows." Andrea's imitation of a deep voice and wiggling eyebrows sent her into a fit of giggles, Miranda's lips unable to resist a twitch in turn.

"Should I ask what?"

Andrea's carefree smile was followed by a hug and a quick peck on Miranda's cheek. "The only thing worth knowing, silly," she laughed, jumping off Miranda's lap, "Whether you are happy."


End file.
